


Silk Scarves and Enchanted Handcuffs

by TommyLane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, Handcuffs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Party Games, Scheming Friends, alternate seventh year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6363172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TommyLane/pseuds/TommyLane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was only supposed to be for seven minutes and then the blindfold would come off and he'd be free from the dark cupboard and his mystery partner - only Harry was no longer sure he wanted it to end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seven Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters from the books and I am not making any money off of this.
> 
> This little story will be six chapters in total and 90% of it takes place in one 24 hour period. It is set in Seventh Year and completely disregards HBP and DH – everything from 5th year on is different – let’s just pretend that Voldy was kind and gave Harry a bit of a break okay? This is a very light hearted piece and was very fun to write, I hope you all enjoy it!

There was silk over his eyes.

 

It itched terribly, something Harry was fairly certain silk wasn't supposed to do, not that he had had any prior experience with it before - silk wasn't a part of the Dursley's wardrobe. But still, logically or not, he could feel the fabric rub against his cheeks and forehead and it was awful, not to mention the way it tickled his ears and tugged at his hair where it was tied together at the back of his head. 

 

Maybe it was because he was pretty sure he was sweating. Perhaps the combination of salty liquid and silk produced a kind of reaction that was making his face feel like someone had hit it with an itching hex. And his palms. Merlin why were even his hands sweating? God this was not going to end well.

 

Just like last time, his brain very unhelpfully supplied for him.

 

Bugger it.

 

Why had he even come? Why hadn't he stayed in bed and pretended to be fast asleep when Seamus had thrown his bed curtains back and proclaimed that it was time to go? Why hadn't he more enthusiastically played the sick card instead of half arsing it like he had? Why in the name of all that was good and lovely had he let himself be dragged to yet another inter-house party?

 

Every damn Friday night.

 

House unity was overrated, not that he would ever say that out loud, especially in front of Hermione. But seriously, why did everyone need to get along? And why did everyone think that the way to accomplish this mission was to get everyone drunk on a weekly basis while playing immature, humiliating games that were surely going to scar him just as much as his childhood had.

 

Harry felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth as the air in the tiny cupboard he had been shoved into a moment ago rose in temperature. He hated cupboards, for very obvious reasons, and maybe if he made his trauma publicly known then his blasted peers would stop finding it so humorous locking him inside one - while blindfolded and under a tricky charm that made speaking anything coherent impossible. Not that he was the only one getting locked in cupboards, he was somewhere around the tenth person that night to have been so - apparently it was some sort of game that was supposed to be wicked fun as Dean had put it the first time Harry had heard the phrase Seven Minutes in Heaven announced as the choice game for the evening.

 

That fateful night had been a month ago - about the time Harry started hating the parties. Well actually, exactly the same time Harry started hating them, before then he had rather enjoyed them. Enjoyed the fire whiskey and silly games and getting to know people he had never had a chance or reason to before. He enjoyed letting go of his inhibitions and all of the weight on his shoulders and just letting himself be a teenager.

 

Hannah had produced two colorful silk scarfs that night as she explained the rules and Harry could remember the look on his friends faces as she did so. They looked like drooling trolls, their brains short circuiting at the promise of being locked in a cupboard with some unknown girl with the sole purpose being to snog your hearts out until the door opens and your mystery partner is revealed.

 

And that's what everyone did.

 

Neville and Susan. Padma and Colin. Blaise and Luna. Even Pansy and Romilda. And so on and so on. They had all emerged looking rumpled and tousled and thoroughly snogged. Every single couple who was shoved into the cupboard came out just a touch more debauched...everyone except Harry.

 

Merlin that had to have been the most embarrassing night of his life. He remembered feeling slightly excited as the lights dimmed and everyone waited and then the silk touched his face. He remembered feeling it grow with a tangle of nerves as he was pushed through the door and he heard the soft breath of the person next to him. Then he just...fidgeted, shifting awkwardly and clenching his hands for much too long before there was a touch on his shoulder and a sudden pressure on his cheek. It was so very gentle and slightly wet and with an inhale that he hoped would provide him with some sort of resolve he had turned his head and captured the soft lips of the girl who had smelled so much like roses that it had made him slightly sick and noticing how her body had felt too soft as she had shifted to press herself against him.

 

He remembered how he had squawked and shoved her away.

 

He remembered the five long agonizing minutes that followed and the fiery look of hatred on Lavender's face when the door opened and their blindfolds removed. He remembered the whispers and laughter that followed.

 

He had spent many a long nights since then trying to figure out why the hell he couldn't just snog Lavender like every other bloke in his year apparently could when it was their turn. The only reason he kept going back to was that it had just felt...wrong. Which seemed just aggravatingly silly. Why should it matter? He was a seventeen year old boy, shouldn't his raging hormones have kicked in and taken over for him? Why did it matter that she had felt all wrong and smelled all wrong and her hair had been much too long and wavy and not nearly silky enough? Shouldn't lips have been lips? Shouldn't his instinctual side have kicked in?

 

And he was pretty sure her large breasts shouldn't have been so freaky. And squishy. Then again maybe he was just used to flat chested girls, both Cho and Ginny hadn't had much going on in that department, maybe that was what had thrown him off. The overabundance of breasts.

 

Hermione said that it probably had something to do with the fact that he had been in a cupboard and something about post-traumatic stress and maybe a dash of lingering anxiety over his impending battle with Voldemort...or something. He couldn't exactly remember the finer points. She had talked for hours. And there had been charts. Color coded and in nice neat columns, every one of his problems clearly labeled and set into the order Hermione deemed most...it didn't matter.

 

She basically said that he was fucked up but that's alright Harry, we still love you.

 

He had managed to avoid the parties since then...until tonight. Harry balled his hands into fists at his sides. Seamus had adamantly promised that everyone had forgotten Harry's embarrassment (which, of course they hadn't) and that they wouldn't be playing Seven Minutes in Heaven. The Irish boy had very clearly said, "best get over it mate, besides Hufflepuff had picked then and it's Slytherin's turn tonight so you can bet your broom it will be some sneaky drinking game instead," while he threw clothes in Harry's direction before nudging him down the stairs.

 

He was going to kill Seamus.

 

Because it hadn't been some sneaky drinking game. No, Pansy had conjured her own silk scarfs, grinning evilly as she proclaimed the game, making Harry feel like he was going to drop dead as he caught Lavender's venomous gaze during the never ending announcement of the rules. Merlin you'd think he had held her under the Cruciatus last time instead of just...pushing away from her until his head cracked against the wall.

 

The sweating had started as the smarmy Slytherin had rambled on and on...though in hindsight he probably should have paid better attention. Merlin what if he was trapped in here for longer than seven minutes? Oh god, this was a disaster and he was fairly certain that he had never been this nervous before - and he had stood toe to toe with Voldemort and gotten tortured. At least he had been outside then...

 

Yup, something was definitely wrong with him, might as well add that tidbit to Hermione's chart as well - it would probably go in the blue column right next to his penchant for following Death Eater son's around...well just one Death Eater's son but apparently that was big enough to warrant its own label and a look from his studious friend as she stuck it in its place.

 

With a quick glance at the overly large glass bowl housing every single person in attendances name on a scrap of a paper he had fervently prayed that he wouldn't be selected (then again his name did seem to like jumping out of bowls and cups when he didn't want them too) and tried his hardest to blend into the crowd, his heart stopping in his chest along with his breath every time the lights dimmed, both refusing to start up again until the lights flickered back to life and he was still safely surrounded by his group of friends.

 

He sipped his whiskey as boys and girls, girls and boys, girls and girls, and even once a boy and boy, all from varying houses emerged and the process began all over again - mentally yelling at himself to calm down and to just enjoy the night. Enjoy the music and the laughter and the fact that Ron had finally asked Hermione out and now they were off in their own cupboard somewhere. Enjoy the few looks that weren't pure amusement at his expense but of actual interest. Enjoy the fact that he was starting to feel slightly relaxed and that Seamus was arguing with Zabini about something he honestly couldn't follow as Draco Malfoy lounged next to him - cradling his glass in his pale hands and flicking his cool gray eyes over to Harry like he didn't know what was going on either but found it amusing none the less.

 

He didn't know why those gray irises made him feel like smiling or how he had even ended up so close to the Slytherin in the first place. Probably Seamus's fault again. But regardless of how, there he was, standing awkwardly while acutely aware of every fidget of his limbs and twitch of his head - finding himself counting the space between the times he let himself look down at Malfoy. He settled around ever twenty seconds, unsure if that was too much but unable to help himself anyway.

 

He just looked so...well he didn't know but something about it kept catching his eye, something that was starting to take Harry by surprise more and more. Ever since the git's father had been thrown into Azkaban Malfoy had been more subdued, quieter, but not in a brooding 'I'm going to stick a knife if your back' kind of way like Harry had originally suspected. No, he somehow seemed...lighter, softer, the hard lines of his face easing up like a physical weight had been lifted off them. The sneer was still there but it was muted, the smirk tamed just an inch to make it sort of...charming? Then there was the clothes. No one wore robes to the parties and Malfoy...well it really wasn't a surprise that the boy knew how to dress. Like tonight, he was wearing a pair of sleek gray trousers and a black jumper that probably cost as much as Harry's entire wardrobe and school supplies combined that buttoned up to his throat - pressed gray cuffs peeking out at his wrists. He made Harry look like he had just rolled out of a rubbish bin in comparison and he found himself tugging at his mangled curls as he eyed Malfoy's flawless locks that he had thankfully stopped slicking back.

 

If possible his hair looked even brighter with the lack of gel. Like a damn dark angel...

 

Then it happened.

 

The silk slipped over his eyes, tightening a bit too much around his scalp before he was marched forward with his feet tripping all the way and tossed through the door. And all he could think was no, no, no, no! Which he was pretty sure was not what a normal boy would be thinking at such a time but that did nothing to dispel the nerves that were threatening to choke him until he literally passed out right there on the dark floor.

 

The lights were probably just flicking back on and everyone would just be piecing together that he was one of the people missing and then the laughter would start again...

 

He wondered if Malfoy would laugh with them or if he would just smirk in his quiet way and drink from his glass like he had been the entire night.

 

The air shifted and Harry sucked in a breath, holding it in his chest as he felt fingers that were cool to the touch brush across his cheek, curling around his jaw with a flat pad of a thumb pressing under his chin and forcing his head up. They were such a sharp contrast to his own heated flesh that he couldn't help but shiver, the quake starting between his shoulder blades and running all the way to the base of his spine.

 

He heard the other occupant of the tiny cupboard breathe out through their nose and then there was a hand in his hair, carding through his curls as if they were trying to figure him out just by the feel of his disastrous locks. Whoever it was apparently had no intention of letting Harry take the first step, nor of letting him even get his footing, everything about the touches instant and...definitely not Lavender, thank Merlin.

 

His eyes that were straining against the black of his blindfold sagged closed, his head lolling unconsciously under the steady hand as his mind spun with possibilities. The person smelled like whiskey and citrus, with strong fingers and a sure touch that was somehow gentle and commanding all at once, making him feel like maybe this would be okay. Maybe he'll be able to do it this time, maybe...

 

There were lips on his. They were warm and wet, and not because either of them were crying (though he should really stop comparing everything to that first disastrous kiss) but because of the briefest flash of tongue that flicked over the crease of his closed mouth. Harry gasped as his knees buckled and his stomach plummeted and god did they know how to use their mouth. Yet it was the gentlest of touches, lips brushing against lips and then with something that sounded like a growl, he was hauled forward and smashed against a solid hard chest.

 

A breast free chest, nothing but hard, angular lines and jutting hipbones and slight but strong shoulders that bunched with a tight coil of slim muscle as his hands reached up and latched onto them for dear life.

 

It was a boy. He was kissing another boy.

 

Harry moaned, his head spinning in a dizzying loop as the idea chased itself around in his mind, a tongue sneaking into his mouth and demanding his attention and reaction, a tongue that tasted so much like the amber liquid he'd been consuming himself and yet...different. It tasted better than he thought anything ever could.

 

It was like falling into one of his dreams, everything a tad fuzzy around the edges, the blackness and forced silence, the mysterious identity of his partner, the firm mouth that kissed and moved and worked on undoing him as he shook. Except it was real, it was happening, he could hear the other boy breathing, could feel his chest heaving, felt his hand in his hair and on his neck - icy fingers that were starting to rise in temperature along with Harry.

 

He moved his arms to wrap around the slender neck, his fingers sliding through the silky soft hair at the base as he pressed himself up against the long body before him, his mind snapping completely as the hand on his neck slid down until it was pressed at the small of his back - holding him in place with a firmness that he couldn't help but react to, his heart beating furiously.

 

The kiss was sucking up eternity in Harry's mind, blotting out everything else, all the things in his life tugging at him, all the things demanded of him. He simply kissed and kissed and kissed, let himself melt forward into the hardness before him where he could feel the boy's heart beating just as quickly as his.

 

His chest was starting to burn, aching with the want of air but he couldn't seem to stop, couldn't seem to pull himself away, he kissed harder, moved his lips and tongue faster and felt something ignite low in his gut when the boy groaned and tugged on his hair - something that sounded like it desperately wanted to be a coherent curse as his head snapped back and there were fingers on his throat. He didn't know why that felt so good when at the same time it was wholly threatening, a simple snap and twist could drastically change the course of their interaction. But he couldn't find it in himself to care or even be remotely fearful...it was like this person who had no clue who he was wanted any part of him he could get to the fasted and that was...amazing.

 

Harry wasn't used to being wanted without ulterior motives. He was used to being punished and shoved in corners or hoisted high on what often felt like undue praise before being dropped again as the current of emotions changed...

 

He felt lightheaded with the knowledge that he was affecting the boy just as much as he himself was affected, that there was a desperation in his movements that Harry felt matched in his own.

 

The fingers on his throat flexed and the lips were rudely ripped away from his own, a cry of dismay floating in the air before that perfect mouth was pressing between the chilled fingers on his skin, licking his throat with a scorching heat that made the touch that much colder and intense, making everything seem like a stark contrast around him.

 

The blackness and light exploding behind his eyelids.

 

The quiet and gasps.

 

The cold that was the other boy and the pure heat that was Harry.

 

The difference between last time with Lavender and this time with...he didn't know. But it didn't matter, he could hardly care at the moment. He pushed away the thought of how everyone will react when he emerges with another boy looking disheveled and swollen lipped like he knew he would be. Pushed away the thought of the shock that might come when it's revealed who it is exactly that's making him feel so very alive and turned inside out, making him want to forget all the people on the other side of the door and to just take more and more and more.

 

Take anything the boy seemed fit to give him.

 

Yes, his mind screamed, the sound coming out garbled as a hand pressed hard against his back and his hips snapped forward, rubbing against the hard bulge he felt there.

 

But the boy seemed to understand him anyway because his back was hitting the wall of the cupboard after two swift steps, two hands slipping up under the hem of his shirt, pushing the material up his chest as they moved while the mouth found his once more, muffling his noises to indecent nonsense.

 

The hands that touched him were long fingered and sharp with perfectly clipped nails but so very soft, like they had never lifted anything coarse in their lifetime or perhaps spent all their time hovering over the steam of a cauldron, smoothing the skin till it felt baby fine. But they were unwavering, confident, melting his insides with every inch upwards, his muscles fluttering under the tips of the fingers, his mouth hanging open as it was devoured with a deliriously delicious constancy despite Harry's quickly deteriorating ability to do anything but gasp and shudder.

 

A year of dating Ginny and he had never felt like this. Had never let go until he ceased to think and just feel.

 

His tee shirt was dragged over his head and tossed somewhere in the dark, his body cold and alone for a split second before he was squished between two hard surfaces again, his hands slipping around to the boy’s front to return the favor, his body suddenly itching with the desire to feel his naked skin. His fingers ran across a long smooth tie and over a line of freakishly tiny buttons.

 

Bloody hell, he cursed, his hands unsteady as they tried to work the knot free while still returning the kiss with equal fervor. Who the hell wears a button down and tie to a party? Gryffindor’s were all about comfort, sweatshirts and tee-shirts and faded jeans, Hufflepuff’s dressed slightly nicer, the girls in dresses and boys in tidier shirts...had to be a Ravenclaw then.

 

Or a Slytherin.

 

His pulse thumped, his fingers slipped, and he gripped the tie with a sudden heat that felt like it was going to melt him into a useless puddle. The hands on his sides tightened, his bottom lip caught between two sets of teeth and sucked into the warm mouth and something inside Harry slid into place - he didn't know how much more time they had but he'd be damned if he was defeated by a blasted wardrobe selection. His hands yanked on the knot, the tie slipped loose and his fingers tore at the tiny buttons, giving up seconds into trying to work them free in the dark. Instead he pulled his hands in opposite directions, grinning against the mouth on his that had stilled as the fabric ripped, a question or maybe a reprimand on the others tongue.

 

"Mhmmm." Harry moaned as his hands hit cool, smooth skin - skin that was just as silky and flawless as the owner’s hands. Good god it was like he was carved from damn marble, how the hell was that possible? Did the boy do nothing but fly around on a broom all day while wearing thick, thick gloves that protected his hands from any callouses? "Mu-shra" He whimpered, unsure what he was trying to say anyway but needing more of the boy beneath his hands.

 

The boy made a noise that sounded like some sort of feral grunt or maybe it was just him answering in kind because his lips were back on Harry's, his hands running down to grasp his backside, hauling him firmly forward until they were rocking together once more. Which was just insanely amazing, a tingling spreading through his limbs and making something pool in his groin as the friction increased while the air was filled with a steadily rising wave of noise that was thankfully not solely coming from Harry.

 

His head thunked back as those lips moved back to his neck, sucking under the line of his jaw, Harry's hand running the length of skin before him before settling on the thick leather belt. He ran the tip of his finger over it then grabbed the buckle, wondering somewhere in the back of his head if this was the wisest of decisions before he shoved it away and set himself to working it free. The boy let out a shuddering breath as it slipped from its clasp, what could only be his forehead hitting the wall next to Harry's as he undid the button beneath and dragged the zipper down, the hardness enclosed by the fabric jumping as Harry's knuckles brushed over it.

 

He let out a string of gibberish then, desperately wishing that he could get the words he actually wanted to say out but quickly deciding that it didn't matter all that much as the boy grasped under his arse and jerked him up - his back sliding against the wall and his legs lifting to wind around the boys hips without a second thought. He felt wild and open and good god who knew that feeling another blokes prick rubbing up and down, up and down against his would be so, so bloody perfect. He grasped at the half exposed back before him, moving his hips, and groaning, thankful when his lips were taken back up and he could drown fully from every single possible angle.

 

Then there was a slanting of light trying to pry at his eyelids, a rise of noise, and a shuffling of feet. He heard an unfriendly snicker, the boy that was quickly ruining him for anything else letting go of him with one hand, their bodies jerking for a moment as he heard an angry growl that vibrated all the way through him. He was smashed against the wall once more, his mouth plundered for all but a second longer before there was a yelp and the boy was suddenly stumbling back from him.

 

His feet hit the floor and he groped blindly for balance, blinking quickly behind his blindfold as he tried to regain his muddled senses. But it was all coming together too slowly and he felt cold and hungry for more but there was a hand that most definitely wasn't the boy's around his forearm, hauling him from the cupboard and out into a laughing crowd that was quickly turning quiet.

 

Fuck.

 

He felt his cheeks flame as he fidgeted in his blindness, listening to the rumbling whispers that were quickly spreading. He always hated this part. Hated even watching it happen to other people, the awkward moment where the people who went just a little too far were thrust back into the light, and forced to stand before the crowd as their blindfolds were removed.

 

He remembered it happening quicker than this though. Shouldn't he have already had his vision returned? Shouldn't he be staring at the boy that he was desperate to kiss again already? Shouldn't the tipsy crowd be less...focused on them? Because he was sure it was never this quiet for the other couples. Right? Only a third of the people usually cared to watch this part that so often resembled a slow motion train wreck. Maybe it just felt like everyone was quiet and watching him. Merlin he could only hope.

 

"Ready boys?" Pansy Parkinson's voice rose above the dim and Harry cringed. He always did despise her.

 

Blessedly she didn't wait a moment longer though and Harry looked at his feet as the silk was drawn from his eyes. He blinked in the sudden light and with a breath of courage forced his eyes up. They moved across the floor till they landed on the boys fine black shoes, traveled up the sleek charcoal gray trousers, his stomach knotting further as he took in the belt and fly that were hanging open.

 

What the hell had he been thinking? He cursed himself as he made his eyes continue the journey, up they went, over pale, pale skin with the gray button up clinging for dear life around his biceps, long bright red scratches standing stark and vivid on his chest. He gulped and noticed the purple bloom forming on his neck that Harry could vaguely remember making. He swallowed and felt his heart stop dead in his chest as his eyes landed on the pale, pointed face, his white blond hair a mused mess that was sticking everywhere.

 

Draco Malfoy was glaring at Pansy, his expression one of pure violence, his unnaturally red lips moving in a near silent threat that Harry couldn't make out. Then he huffed, dragged his hand through his hair to shift it out of his eyes and finally looked over, his gaze falling on Harry.

 

He felt his stomach plummet as Malfoy cocked an eyebrow and smirked, an expression that seemed at odds with his mangled, debauched appearance. Harry snapped his mouth shut and blinked his wide eyes, his mind skipping and refusing to settle onto what his eyes were telling him.

 

That he had just...with Draco Malfoy.

 

The touch of cool metal and the softest of clicks had him tearing his eyes away, his mouth falling back open and his mind finally catching up as he stared down at the pair of handcuffs looped around his wrist, the short chain tethering him to the smirking Slytherin who didn't look like he was fazed in the slightest.

 

Dear god, not only had he snogged Malfoy but now he was bound to him for some reason he couldn't fathom. He really should have listened to the rules.

 

But one thing was for certain.

 

He was doomed.


	2. Handcuffed

  
  
  
  
His fellow classmates were staring, some with open mouthed gapes, some with venomous glares, some with giggles behind covering hands and others just laughing out right.  
  
 

Harry wasn't sure which was the worst.  
  
 

He stared at his feet and tried to not pitch forward and fall flat on his face as he was forced through the crowd that wasn't all too inclined to part for them - shoulders knocking into him and snickers in his ears that made him think of the last time he had been in the cupboard with Lavender. But this was different, he knew that, he knew it was so much worse.  
  
 

Because he looked like he had just tried to shag not only another boy but Draco Ferret Face Malfoy. In a cupboard. While blindfolded. God why did that just make it so much worse? Shouldn't that be like some sort of redemption? The fact that he hadn't known who it was? Except it didn't...not to Harry anyway, not with his body still reeling from their encounter. He had never wanted someone so much in his entire life, it was a cruel twist of fate that it had to be the boy who once strove to make his life miserable.  
  
 

He felt like shrinking into himself and disappearing altogether, the flush on his cheeks burning him from the inside out. He was never going to hear the end of this and Ron...oh Merlin Ron. He was going to explode. Harry had caught the little looks the redhead had been shooting him since the incident with Lavender, looks that had first started when he had broken it off with Ginny a few months back. Ron, understandably, had wanted to know why his best mate had broken his little sister's heart.  
  
 

And Harry couldn't tell him. It was just like with Lavender, it just felt wrong. He glanced up through his hair at the back of the blond head bobbing before him - and now he wondered if he had stumbled onto the real reason, the thing that had been dancing just outside of his grip, lingering in his dreams and the few moments that he let his mind wander...  
  
 

Malfoy on the other hand seemed like it all wasn't even registering on his radar. Or he simply didn't care that he had...with Harry...which really shouldn't have made his insides twist, but it did. The blond was striding through the mass of people with his head held high, nearly dragging Harry by their joined handcuffs behind him, winding his way to the back of the large room with a stride that bespoke of his confidence - each slap of his feet on the stone making Harry cringe with dread for when the walk would finally end.  
  
 

And then what?  
  
 

Merlin what would he say when Malfoy finally reached his destination and turned on him? Should he make a joke? Compliment him on his rather surprising snogging abilities? Shout at him in irrational anger? Ask him to perhaps find another cupboard somewhere? Merlin that sounded good.  
  
 

Yup, he was doomed.  
  
 

"Potter?"  
  
 

"Mhmm? What, oh, yes?" Harry stammered, glancing up sharply as they came to an abrupt halt to find Malfoy staring down at him with a reserved expression. Harry hated it, annoyed that the blond could probably read every little thought that went fluttering across his face and Harry was left guessing. It felt like being in potions class, with Snape breathing down his neck and Malfoy chopping his ingredients with a fluency to his movements and a smirk on his lips as Harry struggled to get even a portion of it right.  
  
 

He was bound to bollocks this all up just like his latest potion assignment. Not that he even knew what _this_ was exactly.  
  
 

 _It was nothing_ , he told himself firmly, nothing at all - just a bit of kissing. _Glorious_ kissing but still just kissing none the less.  
  
 

Malfoy cocked his head, tilting it just slightly in a way that was either condescending or amused. Harry couldn't tell but Malfoy's plump lips were parted just slightly, biting into the corner edge of his tongue before he glanced away and propped himself against the edge of the long table they were standing before - the metal tugging against Harry's wrist as he did so.  
  
 

Malfoy only ever looked like that when he was about to go off on something, either verbally or mentally - which was somehow worse than being shouted at, that quiet venomous attitude that he could slip into, making it perfectly clear what he thought of Harry without even having to say anything.  Harry was used to seeing it when they were partnered for something and he had miss stepped and set them back, it was odd witnessing it now outside the classroom.  
  
 

"You look like someone just avadad your kneazle." Malfoy drawled, his tone dripping with that haughtiness that seemed exclusive to Malfoy as he reached over and grabbed a half empty bottle of firewiskey. He glanced around himself before wiping the lip on his shirttail that was still hanging open and taking a long pull from it - his pale throat working as he swallowed in a rhythm that Harry's eye's couldn't help but follow.  
  
 

Malfoy had a nice throat. Long and milky white, translucent almost in some lights...  
  
 

"My - what?" Harry murmured, still watching Malfoy's throat even as he removed the bottle and set it loudly down next to him.  
  
 

"Kneazle, you know, little fluffy creature, likes to...never mind." Malfoy dragged his hand through his messy hair, the locks falling in chucks over his eyes no matter how many times it was pushed back. "Potter look, you don't need to get your knickers in a twist -"  
  
 

"I don't wear _knickers_." Harry grumbled, feeling like that was an important detail to point out for some reason.  
  
 

"It was just a game alright? One where the sole purpose is to let our raging hormones take over and remove our inhibitions. It's cat and mouse in a cupboard, except the mouse is already caught and just waiting on a silver platter."  
  
 

"I wasn't _waiting_." Harry shuffled his feet, unsure why he kept blurting out corrections.  
  
 

Malfoy most definitely did look amused then. "I didn't say you were." He smirked and took another pull from the bottle. "Though one could argue to the opposite. I seem to recall you just fidgeting rather loudly before I kissed you."  
  
 

 _Kissed you_. Harry flushed and looked away, hearing the words spoken so nonchalantly from Malfoy's silky tongue making everything inside Harry twist so tightly he wondered it a miracle he hadn't gone running off to drown himself in the lake. Of course that would mean taking Malfoy with him since they were looped together and then they'd be outside. Alone. In the water. With a _wet_ Malfoy and...he probably looked really good wet.  
  
 

"No retort? Cat got your tongue?" The smirk was a monstrous thing now on Malfoy's pointed face, stretching his puffy lips widely in a way that Harry felt he really shouldn't do.  
  
 

"Prat." He grumbled after rifling through his mind and unable to come up with a better comeback.  
  
 

Malfoy chuckled and shrugged. "One could say." Then he was setting the bottle back down and reaching towards his trousers, yanking Harry's bound hand along with his until his knuckles were rubbing along Malfoy's firm thigh - making the darkened memory of his own thigh pressed so tightly against it as he was made to wrap his body around Malfoy's come tearing through his mind. He had never been so spread open before, so vulnerable and...desperate.    
  
 

He yelped and jerked backwards, the metal clinking. "What the hell are you doing?" Harry demanded.  
  
 

The blond sighed and shifted his weight back against the table. "I'm not altogether keen on remaining so disheveled all evening. I'm doing up my trousers before they fall all the way off." He stated, calm and cool and collected while Harry felt himself go red all over, from the tip of his toes to the top of his head.  
  
 

He glanced down to the leather belt hanging open, remembering how his hands had shook as he undid it, how it felt to feel Malfoy hard and hot beneath the fabric as he tugged on the zipper. He stared and felt his mouth go dry, vaguely registering Malfoy's huff before those pale hands were moving again, Harry's finger's colliding once more where he needed to stay away from.  
  
 

Groping in a cupboard was one thing but he was pretty sure no one would thank him, least of all Malfoy, if he lost it and did what his libido was trying to make him do now that they were no longer disguised and secluded. Not that he wanted to. It was _Malfoy_ after all.  
  
 

 _And a boy_ , Harry thought a tad belatedly and he squirmed as he pushed it away again. He really didn't have time to deal with a sexual identity crisis right now. He had a feeling he wouldn't be sleeping at all for the next damn week as it was.  
  
 

"Stop it!" He snapped, curling his fingers in and away as best he could.  
  
 

"Cut it out Potter." Malfoy tugged his hand back and Harry felt himself sway. "I can't do it one handed you imbecile."  
  
 

"Can't you just...leave it open?" He asked and Malfoy cocked an eyebrow and shot him a look. "I mean not that I _want_ it open...I just...and you're...please?"  
  
 

"No." Malfoy deadpanned and then tugged once more. Harry squawked as he stumbled, his palm landing right on Malfoy's crotch, which only made Malfoy sigh once more as Harry sputtered and jerked away yet again. "Oh for fuck's sake, you do it then." He leaned back and swiped the bottle, tapping his fingers against the cool muddy glass as he waited.  
  
 

"Er." Harry righted himself and glanced around, noticing that the people nearest them were very pointedly not looking their way. Which meant they had been staring just a moment ago.  
  
 

Bloody hell.  
  
 

"Eloquent as ever Potter. Just get on with it or stop blushing like a school girl and stay still as I -"  
  
 

"I'll do it!" Harry said, a tad too loudly, but it couldn't be helped. He couldn't let Malfoy jerk his hand forward again and risk it brushing against parts of Malfoy Harry really shouldn't want to brush but did anyway. If he did it then he could control his movements...that made sense right? "Just...umm, don't move."  
  
 

"And where would I go exactly?"  
  
 

"Shut it." Harry drew in a breath and reached forward, yelling at his stupid fingers to stop trembling. It was just a zipper and a button and a buckle. Easy.  
  
 

 _McGonagall kissing Hagrid, Lavender snogging Ron_ , Harry ran the thoughts through his mind as he pinched the bit of metal and dragged it upward. _Voldemort, Voldemort and Bellatrix, Dudley doing...anything_ , the zip went up much too slowly, like it was purposely getting stuck just to make Harry's hand sweat more and his fingers linger. _Aunt Petunia pinching Dudley's fat face, Blasted Ended Skewerts blasting_ , he opened his closed eyes and... _Malfoy's cock, Malfoy's hands in his hair, on his chest, grabbing his arse, Malfoy's kisses...oh god..._  
  
 

He looked up sharply and that was a gigantic mistake. Malfoy was watching him, the bottle poised just a centimeter from his lips - his wet, swollen lips that had felt so incredible on his neck, his lips that had tried to form words that Harry could tell were filthy even under the Twisted Tongue charm. Lips that gasped while his hands tugged and licked as his hips pushed forward...  
  
 

"Belt."  
  
 

"Wha?" Harry jerked, realizing with a quick punch to his gut that he had stopped what he was doing and was just staring at Malfoy's mouth with his hands on his crotch. Oh god he had been wrong, _this_ was the most embarrassing night of his life.  
  
 

"My belt Potter, unless you've completely lost all motor functions and can't continue?"  
  
 

"Oh, right, of course, just..." Harry shook his head and quickly grasped the black leather, slipping it through the silver buckle as quickly as he possibly could. Except he kept missing, which made him blush and curse and caused his fingers to be even more unsteady and...  
  
 

"Merlin Potter it didn't take you this long to undo it in the blasted dark." Malfoy's voice was low when he spoke, hinting on humor and something more sultry at the same time.  
  
 

It sent Harry's heart fluttering.  
  
 

"You're such a prick." Harry punctuated his words with a quick tug, cinching the belt tightly shut. There, now Malfoy was no longer in danger of losing his trousers.  
  
 

Harry frowned. He should have ripped the damn things. Though he didn't think it was possible to rip that nice of a belt...so perhaps he should have just chucked it across the cupboard.  
  
 

"Well done Scarhead that only took half the night." Malfoy drawled and Harry had the sudden urge to punch his smug little face.  It was rather comforting, the thought of hitting the other boy. Those were the kinds of things he should be thinking about Malfoy, not about how amazing his body had felt. "Don't even think about it." The Slytherin said with narrowed his eyes, pointing a finger at Harry as he glared, apparently having caught onto Harry's train of thought.  
  
 

"Think about what?" Harry asked as innocently as he possibly could, pulling the open flaps of Malfoys shirt together, intent on getting the blond fully dressed once more. Maybe he'd be able to concentrate a little better if he wasn't forced to stare at the nearly white chest that looked just as lean and fit as it felt. "I'm just working on making you presentable like you asked."  
  
 

Malfoy snorted, a sound that seemed so out of place coming from the suave boy's mouth, but said nothing, just sipped once more from the bottle as Harry's finger's worked the tiny buttons at the bottom of the shirt. He managed to get three popped back into their minuscule holes before he remembered how he had managed to get it undone in the first place, his cheeks coloring once more.  
  
 

"Umm." He cleared his throat, his fingers brushing over where the buttons should be and yet weren't. "It's er..."  
  
 

Malfoy looked at him steadily, not even bothering to glance down to where Harry's hands lingered. "It's what Potter?"  
  
 

"Ripped. I can't...that's as far as it will go." He muttered.  
  
 

Malfoy very slowly slid his gaze down to his exposed chest between the ruined sides of his clearly very expensive shirt and back up to Harry's "So it is."  
  
 

"I didn't mean -"  
  
 

"Is this mayhap why the she weasel gave you the toss? Ruining all her grubby handy-downs with your hatred for buttons?"  
  
 

"No!" Harry snapped. "Ginny's clothes aren't _grubby_ and I never ruined her things, you..." He trailed off as the smirk found its way back onto Malfoy's face, his voice ending on a dull squeak as what his mouth was saying finally caught up with his brain. Bugger.  
  
 

"Just me then?" There was a teasing in Malfoy's voice that Harry couldn't figure out in the well-lit, noisy room.  
  
 

"Umm." Harry fidgeted, shifting his weight and avoiding Malfoy's eye. Merlin but he was right. Harry had never been so eager that he had actually ripped clothing before, had never needed to feel someone's skin so badly that he had let a wash of violence overtake his movements.  
  
 

"Yes, you've said that already."  
  
 

"Harry mate!" Seamus came stumbling into his line of vision, a cup filled with Merlin knew what sloshing as he wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders. "I've been lookin all over for ya!" He said with the beginnings of a slur and a grin on his wide lips.  
  
 

Harry felt a surge of gratefulness for his sloppy roommate breaking the uncomfortable moment he had found himself stuck in since emerging from the cupboard. "I've just been -" He started, his hands snapping quickly back from where they were still gripping Malfoy's ruined shirt.  
  
 

"Oi, Malfoy you missing your hair gel or something? It looks like a damn styling accident blew up all over you." Seamus interrupted him, swinging his attention over to Harry's forced counterpart.  
  
 

"Does it indeed." Malfoy sneered.  
  
 

Seamus nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yeah. You two...by god's you two..." and then he was laughing, nearly doubling in his hilarity, Harry's feeling of being finally rescued fleeing just as quickly as it came. "I told Blaise, I told him you'd be a right mess when Harry got through with you."  
  
 

"Seamus!" Harry croaked, mortified with the implications of that statement.  
  
 

"What?" Seamus looked at him, his blue eyes swimming in the alcohol he probably hadn't stopped sucking down since he arrived. "It's true ain't it? All that staring and fighting and gods Harry you should have seen yourself when - where's your shirt?" He blinked and backed up a step, drawing Harry's eyes down to his own chest that was indeed shirtless.  
  
 

"Fuck." He muttered.  
  
 

"You fucked?" Seamus blurted out, drawing the attention of the people standing near them. "Man you don't waste a minute."  
  
 

"What, no!" Harry adamantly refuted, purposely leaving out the fact that that was where his mind had been going before they had been interrupted. "No. It's just in the cupboard somewhere." He explained, wrapping his free arm around himself as he suddenly felt rather cold.  
  
 

"Why's it in the cupboard?" Seamus was relentless, blinking at him and smiling, making Harry want to forcibly kick him out of the room just to get him to shut the hell up.  
  
 

"Because that's where I threw it." Malfoy said tightly, frowning deeply at the Irish boy like he was thinking along the exact same lines as Harry.  
  
 

Seamus looked at Malfoy, his eyes suddenly bright and clear as a rather coy smile curved over his lips. "Oh, did you? Now why would you do that Malfoy?"  
  
 

Malfoy's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed, and his cheeks flushed as he took a single step closer to the boy who didn't seem all that drunk anymore, but rather poised and sure footed. "Why don't you run along Finnigan?"  
  
 

Harry blinked and looked between them, wholly confused about what the hell had just changed. And why did it look like they were trying to stare the other down? "Malfoy -"  
  
 

"Quiet Potter." The blond murmured.  
  
 

"That's not an answer." Seamus retorted, holding the steely gaze of the boy before him as they both proceeded to ignore Harry.  
  
 

"Watch where you step." Malfoy hissed, his expression dark and hard.  
  
 

Seamus grinned and looked pointedly at their tethered wrists before swiping Malfoy's whiskey and taking a step back. "I could say the same." He laughed with a wink and then he was turning and slanting through the crowd, Harry's brow furrowing in confusion as he watched his retreating back.  
  
 

"What was that about?" He demanded, unable to understand what the hell he had just witnessed.  
  
 

Malfoy spared him a glance out of the corner of his eye before tipping his chin up into the air. "Nothing."  
  
 

Harry opened his mouth to retort that it most obviously was _something_ but then Malfoy was moving, the cuff yanking Harry forward with a squawk of surprise. "Stop doing that!" He grunted but the boy was paying him no heed, dragging him along with his quick strides, shoving his way through the crowd, and sneering at anyone that looked at them for longer than two seconds.  
  
 

It was humiliating, the fact that he was half naked just adding to the whole mess and yet there Malfoy was, making it look like it was their peers who were the idiots and not them with their torn and missing clothing and marked bodies. He caught a brief flash of Seamus's sandy blond head bent towards Zabini's as they spoke in quick whispers, the darker boy's eyes following their progress through the room with a grim expression before Malfoy rounded a corner and blocked them from view.  
  
 

"Pansy." Malfoy snapped and Harry whipped his head back around, seeking out the short girl that was suddenly mere feet in front of them.  
  
 

"Ah Draco love, enjoying yourself?" She turned towards them and smiled in an entirely slimy way, making Harry unconsciously step a little closer to Draco's side - though whether in protection for himself or for the Slytherin was hard to tell.  
  
 

"Take it off." Malfoy growled lowly, jerking their hands up so that the handcuffs rattled softly. "Now."  
  
 

Pansy's smile morphed into a purely malicious grin. "No, no I don't think I will." She cocked her head and gave them both a languid once over. "Where would the fun be in that?"  
  
 

Malfoy's face went slack and blank, somehow looking even more menacing in its smooth lines than when he tightened and hardened his features until everything came across pinched. "I don't know what the hell you think you're doing -"  
  
 

"Oh I know exactly what I'm doing." Pansy interrupted and fell elegantly back onto the couch behind her, crossing her legs so that the ridiculously short green skirt fell back to reveal a scandalous amount of pale thigh. "Like what you see Potter?" She smirked and raised an eyebrow.  
  
 

Harry snapped his gaze back up to her hard brown eyes and felt...nothing. Really she had grown to be quite pretty and still the fact that he could nearly see her knickers wasn't doing anything for him. Maybe he was just too pissed to care. Or maybe it was that he could feel Malfoy's body so close to his and it was making everything take on a strange sort of quality. "Not really." He frowned and perhaps it was just his imagination but he swore Malfoy let out a soft snort in response, the other boy’s lips quirking for a split second before it was gone.  
  
 

"Pansy -"  
  
 

"Look Draco, you heard the rules." Pansy interrupted him, tucking her short black hair behind her ear in what looked like a well-practiced move. "You want out then you know what you have to do."  
  
 

"What?" Harry asked, Malfoy's eyes all but burning holes into Pansy's forehead as he glared at her. "What do we have to do?" Merlin he really, _really_ should have listened to the rules, if he had then perhaps he would be free already instead of still tethered to the boy that was making his stomach flutter each time their fingers brushed.  
  
 

Which was frustrating and distracting... _and confusing_ , his brain tacked on lamely. Though he really wasn't sure that was true even though he knew he _should_ be confused by it.  
  
 

"Oh Potter," Pansy snickered, Malfoy stiffening by his side and Harry's gut twisting at the false sugar slipping from her lips. "It's really quite simple."  
  
 

"Spit it out then." Harry snapped, his skin pricking in goosebumps as cold dread washed over him. Bloody hell what he wouldn't give for his shirt right about then, his exposed chest and flushed skin making him feel horribly on display.  
  
 

The smirk that curved her lips looked to be stolen straight from Malfoy's personage, the expression lighting her eyes making him shift his feet uneasily, a warning sounding in his head that he was about to step somewhere he should stay very far away from. The house parties had put nearly everyone in the upper years on somewhat friendly - albeit tentative - terms with each other, at least when face to face. Yet even after Seamus started dragging him along and chatting with Zabini and Malfoy and Nott and Crabbe and Goyle in the hall and after meals or during supposedly quiet study sessions in the library, Harry hadn't been able to find it in him to warm up to Pansy Parkinson - couldn't stomach her crass attitude and higher than thou arrogance.  
  
 

He positively hated her now.  
  
 

But whatever was making her gaze gleam so menacingly never came to light, Malfoy reaching out and grabbing her arm and hauling her back to her feet before Harry could even let out a huff of pain and surprise as the move caused the handcuff to dig into his skin. "Shit." He stumbled and cursed, just barely missing how Malfoy bent towards Pansy and hissed something in a whisper into her ear - the girl’s eyes narrowing before flicking over to Harry as he rubbed at his sore wrist.  
  
 

He felt completely lost, utterly clueless as to what the hell was going on. He could understand Malfoy arguing with Pansy over leashing them together but then there was that weird argument with Seamus and the way Zabini had watched them stalk across the room and now this...Pansy looking smug and curious and far too in control for Harry's liking. Not to mention Malfoy's own behavior that Harry was having a hard time keeping track of.  
  
 

"Whatever you say Draco." Pansy locked eyes with her fellow Slytherin as the blond pulled back. "But we'll see, won't we?"  
  
 

"See what? What the hell is going on?" Harry demanded, only to once again yelp as Malfoy spun and started dragging him back across the room that was vibrating with music and laughter and drunken merriment that seemed oddly far away from Harry in that moment. "Malfoy, st-" The words died on his tongue as his eyes collided with Lavender's from across the room, her curly dirty blond hair swelled to the size of a damn air ship about her head, her gaze narrowed and glowing with hatred, the cup in her hand clenched in a grip that Harry was surprised hadn't shattered the glass yet.  
  
 

Harry swallowed and looked at his feet. Oh Merlin why couldn't the floor just open up and swallow him already?  
  
 

"Move." Malfoy intoned lowly, his voice echoing with barely suppressed rage, the three Hufflepuffs that had been crowded around the table scampering away with one quick look in their direction. The always impeccably dressed boy shoved his mussed hair from his face, swiped two clean shot glasses, splashed a generous amount of liquor into them, and shoved one at him before taking up his own. He grumbled something under his breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and in a manner that very much seemed like he was preparing for battle, lifted the shot to his lips and tipped it back in one go.  
  
 

Harry watched in puzzlement, feeling very much like some unknown storm was brewing just over the horizon, the feeling only growing as his gaze slipped and lingered on Seamus laughing with his head thrown back on a couch before his eyes slid smoothly to the shut cupboard door - two unknown people inside snogging to their hearts content. Harry licked his dry lips, his pulse speeding up, his hand moving on its own to empty the shot into his mouth.  
  
 

He coughed, sputtering against the burn as his eyes watered, his mouth opening to suck in large gulps of air. He barely managed to set it back down before Malfoy had grabbed two muddy brown bottles of beer and was yanking him through the crowd _again_ without so much as a word.  
  
 

He didn't know what was going on, didn't know how to undo his predicament and he sure as hell didn't know where Malfoy was leading them with his jaw set like stone and his eyes hard and clouded - everything about his expression and the line of his shoulders daring Harry to ask what was going on again. But he did know he wanted back in that cupboard and Merlin help him but he wanted it to be Malfoy pinning him to the wall once more as he was devoured by that hot mouth of his.  
  
 

Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he _had_ dodged Seamus and managed to go to bed early. Maybe he'd wake up any minute now to find that he couldn't actually taste the blond on his tongue and that his neck would be free from love bits.  
  
 

But then that meant that he was dreaming about wanting to shag Draco Malfoy instead of the reality of the boy having kissed him so thoroughly that it had left him achingly hard. The problem was that Harry could not figure out which was worse...or if he really thought either of them were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww thanks for the all kudos and comments guys, it makes me deliriously happy to get them ;)


	3. Tequila and a Lime

 

 

Harry didn't know what time it was.  
  
 

  
  
But his arse was starting to go numb, his wrist was aching from the chaffing handcuff, and he was oddly sweltering and cold. He shifted against the wall, his legs uncrossing from out in front of him, the metal chain clanking as he jostled their joined hands. He opened his mouth, peeked over at the boy currently in the same position as him, and clamped his lips shut on a sigh again.  
  
 

Malfoy was staring unseeingly at the wall opposite them, his head tilted back against the old stone, his mouth drawn in the smallest downward curve that was only disrupted in small moments whenever he lifted the bottle of beer that tasted like piss - at least in Harry's opinion - to his full pink lips and took a long, thoughtful sip.  
  
 

It was odd that people could sip thoughtfully like that. Harry had a feeling he would end up choking himself and coughing his lungs up if he tried to copy the way Malfoy's throat swallowed, how his eyes slipped shut for a brief second, how he would sigh lowly through his nose as his hand dropped the bottle back down to be held loosely against his thigh.  
  
 

Pansy laughed loudly, the sound jolting Harry violently as he pried his eyes away, staring down at his lap once more. He really needed to stop watching Malfoy taking his ordered number of drinks, needed to keep his eyes adverted no matter how fascinating watching his milky throat was.  
  
 

It was beyond annoying that he was having a ridiculously hard time keeping to that one little rule of his.  
  
 

"Categories!" Someone - Anthony maybe - shouted and Harry inwardly groaned. He was fucking terrible at this damn game. Though really who could blame him given his current circumstances? "Alright let’s see...sex. Words meaning sex."  
  
 

"Oh real original." Padma huffed.  
  
 

 

"Shocker there." Parvati added with a grumble.  
  
 

 

  
  
"I'll start!" Seamus volunteered, Harry glancing up at him as the sandy haired boy grinned lewdly around the circle. "Sink the sausage." He wiggled his eyebrows as the girls let out a unanimous disgusted groan.  
  
 

"The beast with two backs." Zabini added from his spot lounging next to Seamus, every line of his body relaxed as he glanced towards the girl sitting next to him that Harry couldn't recall the name of.  
  
 

"Doing it." The nameless girl, oh so cleverly, piped in.  
  
 

"Coitus." Padma smiled as Anthony snickered.  
  
 

"Making love." Parvati slid her gaze for a brief second towards a boy who Harry was pretty sure was a Hufflepuff...possibly...  
  
 

Actually now that he thought about it, Harry was beginning to realize that the more he drank the less people he remembered, their faces blurring before him. But Malfoy's body seemed to be getting steadily warmer next to him, Seamus was getting increasingly louder, and Pansy's smirks kept growing as Zabini winked at him...multiple times.  
  
 

"Fucking." Justin added shyly, his cheeks pinking like they typically did every time the conversation veered towards themes of a sexual nature.  
  
 

Pansy rolled her eyes at the boy before very purposely flicking her gaze to Harry. "Play on all fours." She smirked and Harry shifted uneasily, Malfoy's fingers brushing his and making those damn flutters erupt inside him, the feeling even more intense as her words penetrated his brain.  
  
 

All fours...pushing back, his head pressing to the floor, cold fingers gripping his hips, keeping him up and pushing him forward at the same time...  
  
 

He was pretty sure he had dreamt of that before - of how carpet might feel against his knees, how his arms would shake like they did after hours seeking the snitch, how he would feel puffs of breath over his back and maybe on his cheek...he gulped and took a sip of the foul beer.  
  
 

"Hanky Panky." Someone else continued on with the game, completely oblivious to Harry's inner break down as he tried to remind himself that he had it backwards - that in said scenario _he_ would be the one on top. Except no matter how many times he told himself so he couldn't right the mental images, couldn't get the thought out of his head, couldn't stop wondering what it might feel like to be pressed beneath a hard body...  
  
 

"Bump and grind."  
  
 

"Roast the broomstick." Susan muttered with a giggle.  
  
 

"Shagging." Daphne said with a smile that seemed to drip with sex, her fingers combing back her hair as she shifted in her spot - Harry's eyes narrowing minutely as the move brought her a half an inch closer to Malfoy on his other side.  
  
 

Daphne Greengrass was a slut, of that much Harry was sure, and it had only taken him ten minutes after joining the blasted drinking game to realize it. The girl had practically climbed onto Malfoy's lap somewhere around the time that Harry had started to feel a bit lightheaded and proceeded to snog him messily like an inexperienced whore when whatever card she had drawn had deemed it okay for her to do so. She had left her atrocious pink lipstick all over his mouth - which took Malfoy forever to wipe off with the edge of his thumb, Harry's fingers and perhaps even his lips itching to do it for him. Not to mention her hands had destroyed the boy’s startling blond hair that he had finally managed to get back under control from when Harry had had a go at it. Then she had smirked and sat back with a haughty superiority after dislodging from his lap - like she had just won some great prize and Malfoy was now hers for the rest of her damn life.  
  
 

"Rodger." Malfoy said, his voice low and silky smooth, drawling in perfect Malfoy fashion - the lone word stopping any and all violent ponderings of how much Harry hated the nasty slapper that was sitting pretty in complete oblivion.  
  
 

 _Rodger_. Merlin why did it sound so nasty coming from Malfoy's tongue? It wasn't by any means the crassest of all the words thrown about and yet Harry felt like he had just been tossed into the gutter - one so deep that he was sure he wouldn't ever find his way out. His mind was unhelpfully twisting their environment, putting him back on his hands and knees, sweat tickling his forehead, his cock achingly rigid, Malfoy bending over his back, drawling in his ear as his hand ran up Harry's bare thigh...  
  
 

"Harry?"  
  
 

"Mhmm?" Harry jolted, sloshing his beer and going beet red in the span of two seconds. Oh god something was severely wrong with him. He had had only one rather horrid experience going to second base with Ginny and now...now he was fantasizing about Malfoy and he wasn't even asleep. It had to be all the alcohol...and whatever damn cologne Malfoy was wearing. It was just his luck that the git smelled way too good, the enticing scent warping his brain functions and making him think inappropriate things.  
  
 

"It's your turn, you've got five seconds or you lose mate." Seamus said slowly, his head cocking, his sharp gaze running over Harry's flushed face.  
  
 

"Wha - oh...ummm...r-ride?" He stuttered out, wishing fervently for the hundredth time that he had his shirt because he was near positive that his flush was visible for all to see on his naked chest. He pressed the bottle to his lips and gulped down the beer in quick swallows in an attempt to alleviate his misery as the game continued on around him. He slumped against the wall, wallowing in his own rapidly beating heart as he tried and failed to ignore the body next to him - Hannah accidentally repeating a word already said and ending the round with a laugh that rippled through the circle.  
  
 

Ramilda picked a two of Hearts from the circle of cards and Terry had to take a drink.  
  
 

Dean picked an Ace of Spades and they all had to guzzle their drinks until the person to their left stopped.  
  
 

And so on and so on, Harry going through the motions like a zombie from one of those old horror flicks that Dudley used to watch. He felt slow and dumb and his cheeks wouldn't stop burning and his stomach wouldn't stop twisting and his head wouldn't stop making him relive those moments in the cupboard. Malfoy had infected him with an unknown virus that was spreading through his body at an alarming rate and turning him into something he wasn't.  
  
 

Or maybe he was. Maybe he just hadn't let himself think about it, because surely there were much more important things to waste his time on right? Like protecting his friends and killing Voldemort. Like surviving school and the press and the Minister and passing his NEWTS. Malfoy didn't belong on the list of things he should spend his time on. He groaned inwardly as he took a drink - Merlin but the boy was rapidly filling up his every thought and he was fairly certain that this revelation would only make Hermione add an entirely new column on the _Harry's fucked up_ chart.  
  
 

She would probably make it a sickly purple and label it horribly to, something like - Harry’s _completely inappropriate, and will only end in complete misery, sexual fixation on a Death Eater's son._  
  
 

Harry didn't realize that he was staring at Malfoy from the corner of his eye again until the pale boy reached forward and slipped free an eight of Diamonds from the circle. The number pricked something in Harry's memory but he utterly failed to remember _what_ as Malfoy stared down at it silently - the edge bending under his thumb.  
  
 

"He pulled an eight." Daphne's high pitched voice announced to the circle after leaning much closer than necessary to Malfoy's side in order to see.  
  
 

Harry really wished it wasn't completely against his ethical code to punch girls.  
  
 

"What was the rule for it again?" Nott asked, sipping his beer and flicking his card from his last turn between his fingers.  
  
 

"Eight is for straight." Justin answered, several pairs of eyes turning to him in question when he didn't elaborate. "Seriously? Tequila...body shot remember?"  
  
 

"Of course." Pansy grinned.  
  
 

"Wait, does he get to pick?" Parvati asked, glancing over Justin's knee and down at the piece of parchment that the boy had written the rules out on several hours ago before he and Malfoy had even made their way over and joined the circle - back when they had been just standing uneasily beside each other, Malfoy refusing to say how to solve their problem and Harry refusing to ask.  
  
 

"No, it's...to his right or left?" Zabini pondered out loud, glancing at Seamus who was starting to lean rather heavily towards the chocolate skinned Slytherin, his eyes blinking heavily and mouth smiling sloppily back.  
  
 

Seamus lunged across the circle, grabbed the piece of parchment and scanned down the messily scrawled rules. "Left, it's to his left."  
  
 

"Are you sure?" Daphne asked in a voice full of apprehension as Harry simultaneously tried to remember what a body shot was and recall if Malfoy was chained to his left or right hand. He frowned at his sluggish, drink slowed thoughts, his fingers curling like he was holding an invisible quill as he pretended to write in the air as discreetly as he could - the chain clinking as he accidentally jerked Malfoy's wrist in the process and...oh.  
  
 

Harry's cheeks flushed bright, his insides stirring with a quacking fire that was drying out his mouth again, a buzzing rising in his ears that cancelled out all the chatter going on around him.  
  
 

 _He_ _was on Malfoy's left_ , the little thought getting lodged in the forefront of Harry's mind and refusing to move even as everyone turned to look at him. "Erm...what?" He shifted uncomfortably as he very purposely kept from looking over at the boy sitting right next to him - the card bending at a sharp angle between the blonds fingers now.  
  
 

"Might want to lick your wrist Potter." Zabini smirked, Harry's brow furrowing, his mouth opening in question seconds before Seamus was shoving a cut lime wedge into his hand and a full shot glass at Malfoy.  
  
 

"Wha?" His gaze darted between the tart fruit and the shot of tequila, frantically trying to remember what the two things had to do with each other and just what the hell they were supposed to do now.  
  
 

Seamus laughed, Pansy snickered, and Harry was pretty sure that the mocking noise was making its way around the circle as he just kept starting dumbly at the two things. He really needed to learn to pay better attention to rules in general it seemed because no matter how hard he tried he couldn't remember how to do a body shot or just what his role in the whole thing was other than holding a damn lime wedge.  
  
 

And licking his wrist apparently.  
  
 

"No, it's his neck." Pansy corrected, leaning back against the pillows mounted behind her with that evil glint back in her dark eyes.  
  
 

"What?" Harry repeated stupidly - _what_ was his neck?  
  
 

"Oh for fucks sake." Malfoy hissed, grabbing the lime from him and then promptly catching him around the waist when the sudden movement almost had Harry tipping back and banging his head against the wall - the movement pressing them nearly chest to chest and stealing all of Harry's air that he felt like he desperately needed in order to get his mind working again. "Just...sit still and open your mouth." He commanded, his gray eyes skirting Harry's as he silently obeyed, his mouth falling open more out of puzzlement and alcohol induced inhibitions than anything else.  
  
 

That and the way Malfoy said it had made something hot stir in his belly and made him nearly fall back over just to see if Malfoy would move to catch him again with those lighting fast reflexes.  
  
 

What he wasn't expecting was for Malfoy to stuff the peel side of the lime into his mouth and tell him to hold it there before grabbing his chin and forcing his head to the side. Harry breathed out loudly through his nose as he stared at the wall, his body tingling all the way down to his toes as he felt Malfoy's hot breath on the sensitive skin of his neck. He was suddenly grateful that his mouth was occupied and that no one could clearly see his face as his eyelashes fluttered closed and a moan rose up in inside him.  
  
 

Fuck but since when did getting _breathed_ on feel so damn good?  
  
 

Malfoy's breath tickled and sent his heart racing and then the other boy's tongue was pressing against the skin right above his collar - the appendage wet and scorching hot, licking a burning stripe up the side of his neck. And that was even better than the breathing. He felt hyper aware and over sensitized and all he could do was desperately hope that Malfoy wanted to lick and lick and lick him until his world zeroed out and became nothing but the blonds mouth on him.  
  
 

He huffed out a stifled whimper when Malfoy pulled back, his skin tingling under the wet trail, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he told himself to calm down, his breath hitching once more when he felt something sprinkle over his moist skin.  
  
 

Was it too much to hope that Malfoy was planning on turning Harry into his own personal lollipop?  
  
 

He felt like he was going to burst, praying that everyone couldn't hear his pulse pounding or see his chest heaving against silent pants as he waited - Malfoy's hand dropping from his chin to curl around the back of his head, his fingers threading through Harry's hair and tugging just enough for the tension to jolt through him in a wave of pleasure. He kept his eyes shut tight, nearly choking on the damn lime when Malfoy's tongue started running back along his neck - licking up whatever he had sprinkled there moments before. Then his head was hitting the wall as the blond rose up a little, pressing him back and angling Harry's chin once more before there were suddenly lips on his.  
  
 

Teeth scraped his bottom lip before sinking into the fibers of the lime, the tart juice trickling over his tongue and mingling with the taste of tequila that was strong on Malfoy's tongue. He groaned and tipped his head back further, pressing harshly into the wall as he tried to kiss those plump lips that were sucking the lime free from Harry's mouth, the Slytherin pulling away before Harry could even fully wrap his mind around what had just happened.  
  
 

He felt completely breathless, an ache that was starting in the pit of his stomach and spreading out through every inch of him, keeping him still against the wall in his blindness as he tried to suck in air that didn't want to fill him. He felt hungry, like he had just tasted the sweetest meal of his life and then had it ripped so unkindly from him. Malfoy's bound hand was covering his on the hard floor and Harry desperately tried to remind himself that they weren't alone, that he couldn't reach forward, grab the ruined sides of Malfoy's shirt and haul him back against him. He couldn't beg Malfoy to kiss him again, he couldn't lift his hand and touch his tingling lips or lick them to savor the blond’s presence.  
  
 

He shouldn't even want to. But that seemed pointless now because who was he kidding? Malfoy had always drawn his eye, the boy had been wiggling his way into his dreams for the last several months and now that Harry let himself think on it, it was as plain as day that it was the other boy that made Harry's pulse race and his tongue get thick and more often than not woke him up in a sticky mess. Harry was rather innocent sexually for a seventeen year old boy but his dreams hadn't had any trouble weaving ideas and painting heart pounding images of what Malfoy could do to him...what he _wanted_ Malfoy to do to him. Merlin this was a long time coming wasn't it? At least he now had a reason he could give Ron as to why he ended it with Ginny and pushed Lavender away. It was all rather simple really. He was doomed and aching for another boy. For Malfoy of all people. Merlin Ron was going to be furious.  
  
 

As he willed his heart to slow in his chest Harry figured that the panic attack would hit anytime now, that the doubt and adamant refusal would come gushing forward any moment. Because to want Malfoy would mean that he was gay and being gay wasn't really something Harry had the time to deal with right then.  
  
 

"I think you broke him." Someone snickered and Harry silently agreed.  
  
 

Malfoy had broken him, he'd bent Harry into a poof and Harry couldn't be arsed enough to care - he might as well start making up those violent purple labels for Hermione now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tequila anyone? ;)


	4. Tipsy Confessions

Harry knew he was very close to being all out drunk. Hell he very well could be pissed out of his mind and he was just having a hard time grasping it. But the ground was spinning...no wait that was the ceiling. The ceiling was spinning, round and round it went, bright pops of color that seemed timed to the music that was vibrating up through the floor. His skin felt way too sensitive and the lights in the room suddenly seemed much too bright...or maybe too dim...he really didn't know.  
  
 

And he didn't care.  
  
 

"Potter, what do you think you're doing?" Malfoy barked, stumbling as Harry jerked him forward - the fact that the room was nearly empty save for the circle of people they had just left barely registering.  
  
 

"Damn slut." Harry grumbled, blinking his eyes and tipping heavily to the right, jostling sharply into the other boy before he managed to right himself and continue on his march across the room and away from the group of card playing hellions.  
  
 

"How dare-"  
  
 

"Not you." Harry squinted back at his old rival, his lips pursing - the smart arsed, wispy framed but shockingly strong, masked off Slytherin Seeker had pink lipstick smeared across his lips and porcelain cheek. He reached forward and wiped his hand across the blonde’s mouth before he could jump out of the way.  
  
 

Pink was not Malfoy's color, his lips shouldn't ever look so pale, not when Harry now knew how fantastic they looked red and slightly swollen.  
  
 

Leaving the circle hadn't exactly been a conscious decision, one moment he had been laughing with Seamus and the next Daphne had produced an empty bottle. She then spun it with the barest tap and started snogging Malfoy while the blond was in the middle of a conversation with Nott. Something fierce had roared in Harry's chest at Malfoy's squawk of surprise, his gray eyes rounded wide as the girl grabbed his face and all but tried to fuck his mouth with her tongue. The sight had sent Harry reeling, his vision turning red. He had surged to his feet, yanking Malfoy up with him and sending Daphne sprawling.  
  
 

He had snapped - or maybe it was more of a slur - something about having to piss and started stomping away before anyone could react other than a few dropped jaws, a handful of confused eyebrows, and one smirking set of lips.  
  
 

Malfoy huffed and slapped his hand away. "Cut it out Potter, just what are you doing?"  
  
 

"What are _you_ doing?" Harry countered, taking a step closer and narrowing his eyes. Not the smartest of comebacks but...fuck he _was_ drunk.  
  
 

"What?" Malfoy screwed up his nose, the pink smear on his lips mocking Harry as it stayed put, obstructing Malfoy's perfect mouth. "Are you drunk?"  
  
 

"No." Harry grumbled, glancing around them and with a quick pull of the handcuffs started leading them towards the door.  
  
 

"I don't-"  
  
 

"Shhhh." Harry shushed as he pulled open the door and stepped out into the silent hall - the old wood swinging shut behind them and fading from existence to silently await to be called upon once more. He didn't bother explaining what he was doing as they silently made their way down the hall - their feet moving softly but swiftly so as not to alert anyone or thing to their presence, detention for not only being out way past curfew but drunk was not an appealing concept.  
  
 

"Where are we going?" Malfoy hissed after several long minutes of walking, Harry's feet stumbling far more often than they should have, the ground starting to throb along with the ceiling now. But then his tired green eyes found the tapestry with the concealed door behind it and with a grin of triumph he pulled Malfoy towards it and inside - the old dusty room cast in shadows and making the blond sneeze as Harry leaned his back against the door to shut it. "Where are we?" He asked, glancing around at the old discarded furniture and the set of high painted glass windows along the far side.  
  
 

Harry shrugged and shuddered as his stomach rolled and Malfoy's visage split in two for a moment. He blinked as he fished out his wand, flicking it over himself and feeling the welcoming wave of a sobriety charm rush over him. It cleared his head a little, the strength of the spell not nearly strong enough to dispel it completely, but at least the ground and ceiling weren't spinning anymore and the rolling in his stomach was fading away. He had gotten rather sufficient at them over the last year, ever since Seamus started disappearing on a regular basis and coming back pissed up to his eyeballs. "Dunno."  
  
 

Malfoy eyed him dubiously, his jaw tensing before his entire face went slack - Harry cursing inwardly at the look. The boy was less than pleased. "Why are we here then?"  
  
 

"I -" Harry stopped and pondered the question, why did he bring him here? Other than getting the boy away from Daphne's whoring lips he honestly couldn't fathom why he had marched them out of the party and to their own little room - the smaller space seeming somewhat suffocating now that he thought about it. It was too much like the cupboard and Harry was possibly still a little tipsy and Malfoy was much too close and Harry was having a hard time remembering why he shouldn't start kissing the other boy. "You um...you said you know how to...you know...." He trailed off with a blush as he jiggled the handcuffs.  
  
 

The night had gone on long enough and Harry feared that if he wasn't released from his tether soon he would do something he would regret. It was imperative to remember that just because _he_ had had a sexual breakthrough didn't mean Malfoy had any desire to do anything with him beyond snogging incognito in a cupboard. And sucking lime juice from inside his mouth.  
  
 

"Yes." Malfoy deadpanned without any further elaboration.  
  
 

"Well, how?"  
  
 

"Honestly Potter is it all rules you don't bother to pay attention to or only ones concerning me?"  
  
 

"Come on Malfoy, I'm tired, I'm cold, and I...it can't be that bad right? Can't we just do whatever it is and get it over with already?" Harry pleaded, his flush spreading down over his chest at hearing the blonds drawling voice pointing out Harry's lack of listening skills. It was a rather disturbing trend in hindsight, his cognitive skills severely diminishing with each inch of proximity he gained towards Malfoy.  
  
 

The other boy regarded him quietly for a long moment, his eyes that resembled a storm at sea tracing over him silently and steadily like he was trying to fully judge the state of Harry's mind - which Harry fervently prayed he couldn't. But Harry was a crap Occlumens and he had a feeling that Malfoy was probably an expert Legilimens, which did not bode well for him now or any time in the coming future now that he was knowingly harboring...feelings?...for the other boy.  
  
 

Malfoy sighed long and deep, pinched the bridge of his nose, and glanced up at the wall over Harry's head. "It's a question."  
  
 

"A question?" Harry repeated, sure he had heard wrong. What was so hard about a question? What could be so bad that Malfoy had put it off the entire night? "Like...what exactly?"  
  
 

Malfoy huffed and shifted his weight, the few buttons that had managed to survive on his shirt clinging to dear life as they hopelessly tried to keep the material held together. "We have to admit what our most pressing thought was while...in the cupboard." He muttered with a resigned sigh, his gaze still far off and bored on the wall behind Harry.  
  
 

"Well that's...oh." Heat swarmed him as the gravity of what he had just been told took root. He had to admit _to Malfoy_ what he had been thinking while they had been kissing and touching and...rubbing. "Fucking Pansy." He swore as he found a sudden interest in his trainers, one of the dirty white laces laying open across his toe. He was doomed to stay chained to Malfoy for all eternity if that was the only way he was getting out of it because there was no way he could ever look Malfoy in eye and admit to all that he had felt and wanted.  
  
 

To what he still wanted. What he wanted even more now that he...  
  
 

Malfoy chuckled hollowly, "indeed."  
  
 

"But I don't get... _why_?" Harry knew he probably looked like he had a wicked sunburn by now, his hands starting to sweat again.  
  
 

"Because Pansy is a vindictive cow who takes pleasure in causing misery and discomfort." Malfoy replied icily, his hand clenching at his side.  
  
 

"Oh." Harry scratched at the back of his neck as he tried to process it all. "Was there other people then? You know, other people who got handcuffed after the cupboard?"  
  
 

"You are rather oblivious to your surroundings aren't you? There were a few others, some before us, some after, did you not see Millicent punch that Hufflepuff right after theirs came off?" Malfoy smirked, looking back down at him for the first time in what felt like hours, the frozen pools in his eyes sparking like specks of fire. The boy really did have the most fascinating eyes - gray with edges of blue, deep and soulful when bent over a cauldron or trying to puzzle out a problem, shuttered and filled with mist when he was guarding himself off...like now.  "Though I believe we are the last to remain tied."  
  
 

"Oh." It seemed shameful to admit that he hadn't even realized that there had been others in their same predicament. Yet somehow he knew that if Malfoy had been chained to someone else that Harry would have been trying not to stare and brood over it all evening - most likely telling himself he was keeping an eye on him to make sure the git didn't hurt whoever was on the other end of the chain.  
  
 

And not at all because Malfoy was incredibly handsome.  
  
 

"Care to add another word to your vocabulary?"  
  
 

"Haha." Harry grumbled, rubbing his pointer finger over his scar. Merlin feeling like this was confusing and agitating and...maybe he really should just stick to being a savior and leave off on any emotional attachments - like those superheroes in Dudley's comics. Though he was pretty sure that all those larger than life men had been trying to protect a waif of a woman and not a well-toned, wicked tongued, downright hostile at times but still somehow the most interesting person Harry had ever met, boy.  
  
 

"Does it..."Malfoy trailed off, the corner of his lip getting trapped between his teeth, his gaze trained on Harry's forehead. “Does it hurt?"  
  
 

"What? My scar?" He peeked up at him from between his fingers. Maybe it was because Malfoy had been on the Dark Side for the longest time, or perhaps it was because the boy had never shown an ounce of concern for Harry's wellbeing - quite the opposite actually - but the question was startling. It sent something aching in his chest, made him think of how quiet Malfoy had been for the last two years, how some of the Slytherin's no longer rolled their sleeves back but Malfoy did - and his skin was always clear and unblemished.  
  
 

It made him want to touch the boy's face, to stand toe to toe, and watch as the shutter dropped from his eyes.  
  
 

Malfoy nodded, lip still caught, growing redder by the second, and Harry couldn't help the small smile as he shrugged. "Sometimes, yeah, a lot actually."  
  
 

"That sounds...unpleasant." Malfoy sniffed as his nose scrunched up - an aristocratic show of dislike.  
  
 

Harry felt his smile twitch wider because the little action made it seem like perhaps Malfoy didn't _like_ that Harry's scar hurt him. "It's rather a disaster actually, can't think or sleep sometimes because of it...gives me weird dreams too." That was too much information, he shouldn't have said that, yet Harry didn't really regret it even though Hermione would be giving him wide _what did you do_ eyes right about then if she had overheard.  
  
 

It was funny but he sort of trusted that Malfoy wouldn't say anything even though he had no logical reason backing the gut feeling up.  
  
 

Malfoy nodded slowly, glancing at him from the corner of his eye with a shifty sort of look. "The Dark Lord tends to do that to people."  
  
 

Ice clenched Harry's stomach, cooling the heat that had been steadily filling him from the moment he had sequestered them in the abandoned little room of broken furniture. He knew all too well the terrors Voldemort afflicted on his own followers and Malfoy and his mum...well they couldn't be in good, if any at all, standing with him anymore. The thought made that _thing_ in his chest roar again, his fingers itching and moving on their own until he was brushing them across the back of Malfoy's hand. "Are you-"  
  
 

"Oh no Potter." Malfoy jerked his hand back as far as he could in the binding, his gaze snapping shut once more, any cracks that had started to form sealing shut. "No, you are not going to go into savior mode, I am not a maid in distress, I am a bloody survivor and I will survive just fine without your pity."  
  
 

"It's not...I know you don't need pity Malfoy" Harry frowned, trying to figure out how to word what it was he was feeling. "I just...want you to be safe."  
  
 

Narrowed eyes met Harry's, the blonde’s shoulders squaring. "Why?" He glared suspiciously.  
  
 

"Why wouldn't I?"  
  
 

That answer didn't seem to appease Malfoy so much as it seemed to only make him more suspicious. "Because you and I have never gotten on. In fact I think the word dissentious hatred would be an accurate description of our relationship."  
  
 

"Dissentious?" Harry grimaced, tipping his head to the side as he tried to recall what the hell that meant.  
  
 

"Contentious." Malfoy drawled with an arched eyebrow.  
  
 

"What's that?"  
  
 

The corner of Malfoy's lips twitched, the movement so small and minuscule Harry almost missed it completely before the blond was huffing and fiddling with the hem of his ruined shirt. "Unobservant and benighted I see."  
  
 

"Are you just making up words now?" Harry grumbled, his chest fluttering again, and making him think that this was a prime example of another label to add to the purple column of his chart. He was pretty sure getting flustered over being insulted - because he might not _know_ exactly what benighted meant but he knew it wasn't anything good - was not a normal thing. He fought a blush and glanced down at his shoes again. "You know what, whatever, we're getting sidetracked-"  
  
 

"Divagate."  
  
 

A chuckle bubbled up Harry's throat and trickled out before he could stop it as he looked up sharply to see Malfoy's smirking face. "What are you a walking dictionary? Is that like your new thing?"  
  
 

“Thesaurus.” Malfoy corrected with that barely there smile twitching again.

 

“What?”

 

"You’re thinking of a thesaurus, not a dictionary, and you’re divagating again."  
  
 

 

"You’re a bloody nuisance."  
  
 

"Some say." Malfoy shrugged. "But I don't think you mind."  
  
 

"Why's that?" Harry felt every little particle of air against his skin, brushing tantalizing over him as Malfoy stared at him with his tipped head, and strong jaw, and impossible eyes. The look wasn't anything new exactly and yet...it was. There was something different, something there that hadn't been before, almost like when Harry had dumbly been buttoning and zipping the boy back together so many hours ago now only to glance up and find the blond watching him. The gaze felt weighty, solid, like it could physically caress Harry if he just breathed right and leaned a fraction closer.  
  
 

"Because you're smiling." Malfoy pointed out, quietly, slowly, his gaze dropping at a snail’s pace to land on Harry's lips. "And blushing."  
  
 

"I'm drunk." Harry blurted out as utter embarrassment washed over him, his mouth tingling under the scrutiny and the urge to lick his suddenly dry lips nearly overwhelming.  
  
 

"Aren't we all?" He nodded, taking a single step closer until Harry could feel the heat radiating off the other boy's body. "Best start confessing then so we can finally go our separate ways."  
  
 

"C-confessing?" Harry stuttered as he wiped his sweaty palm down his thigh, his stomach twisting at the reminder of what they needed to do. "Why do I have to go first?"  
  
 

Malfoy smirked. "Because I am the calculating Slytherin and you Potter, are the reckless Gryffindor."  
  
 

"What if...what if I don't remember?" He bit his lip and felt the door connect with his back as he unconsciously backed up a step. Now this was definitely familiar - his hands and forehead sweating, his body feeling much too hot, the space much too small, and another body so very close to his. Except this time his partner wasn't a mystery, he could see, he could talk. He knew it was Malfoy in front of him and Merlin did he want to recreate the cupboard. "I don't..." he trailed off, his voice shallow, breath husky.  
  
 

"We're stuck here until you do." Malfoy bent his head closer, his voice dropping to match Harry's. "So close your eyes and try. Pretend you don't know me...pretend it's not me..."  
  
 

His eyelashes slipped closed and he breathed deep. The blond still smelled of citrus and whiskey. His hands were still cold. And Harry couldn't stop his fingers from reaching up and grasping one ruined side of Malfoy's gray button up. "I was..." he swallowed thickly and yanked, pulling Malfoy closer until their bodies where brushing. "Terrified." He gasped and then lifted his face, blindly finding the others lips before he could spill any more secrets - eyes squeezed shut as warm lips met his, melding with his mouth like they knew Harry's perfectly.  
  
 

He let out an embarrassing moan as he flicked his tongue out, licking at the crease between the plump lips, his arm winding around to grasp Malfoy's shoulder tightly. But that confession wasn't the whole truth, he had only been terrified _before_ Malfoy had kissed him and then after he had gotten so swept up all fear had drained right out of him. "I thought he tasted amazing." He whispered against the blonds mouth before he was pressing his tongue forward once more, his body quacking as Malfoy's lips parted and sucked him inside - a hand suddenly around his waist and crushing him against that hard lined, breast free chest again. "I was kissing a boy." The words tumbled out before he could think them through, his lips drawing across Malfoy's jaw and down his neck, licking and nibbling at the perfect, porcelain skin. "I wanted to feel all of him." He groaned, rolling his hips forward as he felt his groin tighten, something tingling around his wrist where the handcuff was - something that seemed to be pulling the truth from Harry's tongue now that he'd started.  
  
 

Or maybe it wasn't the magic in the spell that Pansy had woven at all. Perhaps it was being in Malfoy's arms again, feeling his lips, and listening to his ragged breathing and feeling the tense lines of his back like he was trying to hold himself together as Harry sucked on his neck. Where he had found the courage really didn't matter though he decided, as a hand threaded through his hair and dragged him back up into another kiss and his body was pressed back into the hard wood of the door.  
  
 

Because Malfoy was kissing him like he had in the cupboard, like he had wiped from his mind that it was Harry he was devouring, that it was his old rival that he was rubbing his hips against, that it was the boy who had seen his father sent to jail that he was crushing and shattering with the beat of his heart.  
  
 

"What else?" Malfoy rasped, his mouth descending on Harry's neck, his hand pulling on raven curls, and his full prick grinding against Harry's aching cock.  
  
 

"I wanted..." He groaned, bunching the material of Malfoy's shirt in his hand in the middle of his shoulder blades and tugging until he managed to yank the material away - the tattered piece of clothing getting stuck on the handcuffs and hanging useless by their feet. "I wanted to be taken."  
  
 

"Fuck." The other boy cursed, panting heavily, his head hanging useless for the beat of a second before he was capturing Harry's lips, his fingers winding through Harry's at their sides - Malfoy's palm just as sweaty as his.  
  
 

"I wanted to touch all of you." Harry breathed in between kisses, his free hand running down Malfoy's sculpted chest, his fingers stopping over his blasted belt buckle - palm angling down just a little to press against his groin.  
  
 

Malfoy moaned slowly, brokenly, his head bending to rest against Harry's shoulder as he grasped the darker boy's wrist and yanked his hand away - trapping it against the door by his head.  
  
 

Harry's eyes snapped open as Malfoy held him still, hot pants of breath rushing against his sensitive skin. He curled his fingers down over the back of Malfoy's hand and tried to press himself forward against him once more only to have Malfoy make a strange sort of gargling noise and jerk back. "What?" He asked, confused and dizzy and wanting very much to just continue on with what they were doing.  
  
 

Malfoy's jaw was tense, his eyes hardening, the fire behind them slowly dying before he slipped his eyelashes shut over them. "You're drunk and it wasn't _me_ you wanted to touch." He whispered, his voice hard like a block of ice, chilling Harry in an instant.  
  
 

"No, I - Malfoy?" Harry blinked, trying to figure out how it went south so quickly, how they had gone from snogging intensely and grinding against the door to this in the blink of an eye.  
  
 

The blond barked out a harsh laugh. "Right. _Right_." He shook his head and took a step back. "Pansy is a fucking bitch Potter and Blaise is a god damn idiot and Finnigan can go straight to hell and burn there." He spat, his hand dragging through his hair in a haphazard manner that made him look more than a little mental.  
  
 

"Seamus...what?" Harry couldn't comprehend the rabbit trail they had just jumped down, couldn't fathom what Seamus and Zabini had to do with any of this.  
  
 

"You tell your friend that you don't fucking mess with people’s lives. Tell him to leave his nose where it belongs and if he's smart to leave off before he finds himself out on his arse."  
  
 

"You're not making any sense." Harry breathed, his eyes widening as Malfoy's fingers clenched in his hair, tugging sharply in a way that Harry knew had to be painful. "Are you okay?"  
  
 

"No!" Malfoy snapped, his jaw sliding forward and locking as he stared angrily over Harry's shoulder. "No, because now it's my turn isn't it? Because that's how this works, fucking calculation, and you just had to...damn it!"  
  
 

"Why are you mad?" Harry fought his own anger that was trying to contend with his confusion, his arm wrapping around his naked middle as he was suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable and fucking confused as all hell. "This isn't my fault!"  
  
 

"No, of course not, it's never your fault is it?" Malfoy said evenly and slowly, his shoulders rolling back and squaring, looking very much like he used to right before flinging out some horrid racist comment. "You trip through life, falling into situations and coming out as the hero, but you never look back do you? You never see what’s left behind."  
  
 

"Is this about your father?" His brow wrinkled as he tried to catch onto Malfoy's train of thought, at the same time telling himself that Malfoy's physical transformation and words didn't sting and tug at his heart. Lucius Malfoy deserved Azkaban, there was no way around it, but that didn't mean that Harry didn't feel for the boy. He wasn't a hapless idiot, he knew he couldn't fathom all the pain and complications the elder man's incarceration had wrecked on his family.  
  
 

"My Father?" Malfoy chuckled, a dark and low sound. "My father is where he belongs, I'm not talking about him."  
  
 

"Then...what are you talking about?" Harry felt the overwhelming urge to reach forward and touch the other boy again, to draw him close and kiss his jaw and sooth his hair and wind his fingers through the Sytherins long, cool ones.  
  
 

Malfoy looked down at his designer black shoes, not a scuff or scratch insight. "It's easier to yell at you, you know?"  
  
 

"Easier than what?" Harry held his breath as gray eyes flicked up at his before skirting back down, Malfoy sucking in a deep, slow breath.  
  
 

He shrugged and kicked the ground. "Go on and ask me."  
  
 

Somehow Harry knew that Malfoy wasn't talking about his frankly weird and confusing tangent but about his confession in order to break free and Harry felt his stomach knot further as he licked his lips and gathered up the courage to do so. "Alright...what were you thinking about in the cupboard?" He whispered it, almost afraid that if he spoke any louder that it would send the blond into another fit. Not to mention he was nervous as hell, especially after he had admitted to so much mere moments ago.  
  
 

"You." Malfoy said it so quietly that Harry nearly missed it completely, his entire body still, even his heart stopping it's beating to make sure he could hear every little word and catch every little nuance in his cadence.  
  
 

"What?" Harry muttered as he pressed forward until they were almost touching again.  
  
 

"I was thinking about you because...because I, fuck." Malfoy shut his eyes and bit his lip as Harry felt himself ready to explode, elation hanging just beyond his fingertips as he waited for Malfoy to finish his thought. The cold fingers on his chin startled him, a huff of pleasant surprise rushing out of him as Malfoy's lips hovered just a fraction of an inch away. "Your hair is a disaster you know? And when you're working in Potions you make these noises..." He was so close, his eyelids heavy and gaze stirring with a storm beneath them, each word settling like a pool of heat in Harry's stomach. In that moment Malfoy seemed ten feet tall, dwarfing Harry in all things. "You can't be missed and I knew...I _knew_ it was you."  
  
 

Harry felt caught, suspended above himself, looking down at him and Malfoy - a breath between them, Malfoy's hand of his face, the confession hanging in the air like a physical presence, and all Harry wanted to do was press forward and drown again. But his brain was dead, his chest pounding, the words echoing in his head in a way that he couldn't stop listening to.  
  
 

But then the handcuffs clicked open and clanked against the stone and Malfoy was out the door before Harry could blink.

 

 


	5. The Unlikely Trio

Harry stood with one hand pressed against his chest, feeling the thick thump beneath his fingertips, the other brushing feather light over his lips as he stood rooted to the floor - staring at the spot that had inhabited Malfoy only moments ago. His thoughts felt thick and sluggish, churning through him - making his cheeks heat and pulse flutter erratically.  
  
 

He wasn't all together sure what just happened.  
  
 

Malfoy had been standing right in front of him, holding his chin, breathing over his mouth like he was going to kiss him, and then he was gone before his confession could even fully penetrate Harry's brain. Now Harry was alone, the ghost of the boy lingering before him in a way that felt nearly tangible, and all he could do was replay the events of the night in its entirety over and over again in his head. The problem was that it was a disaster, a jumble of confusion that Harry couldn't possibly sort through in his current state of mind. And perhaps that was it, perhaps Malfoy had merely been confused and drunk and just as lopsided as Harry felt after such a long lust hazy night. Perhaps he didn't mean what Harry thought he did, perhaps it had just been the alcohol talking, perhaps it was nothing more than drunken nonsense.  
  
 

Except Malfoy had mentioned Seamus in a nonsensical but lucid way during his odd rant right before he had...heat stirred in his stomach at the thought of it - the way Malfoy had kissed him earlier, the touch of lips fiercely passionate, his voice growing huskier as the night wore on, making him flush. He had confessed to knowing it was Harry, stating that the darker wizard couldn't be _missed_ \- even in a dark cupboard, while blindfolded, and mute. Harry wasn't sure how that was possible, how Malfoy had deduced it was him just by running his hands through his hair - which Harry could thoroughly remember him doing for quite some time before kissing him - and listening to the odd hitches of breath he made throughout it all.  
  
 

Because if Malfoy could somehow know him just by those things then...well then the other boy had been paying more attention than Harry ever thought possible.  
  
 

Which brought him to the main reason Harry hadn't been able to move for the last several minutes and made him want to go racing down to the dungeons to track Malfoy down at the same time. Malfoy had known it was Harry _before_ anything had happened and he hadn't backed away. No, he had pulled Harry into a kiss that he had felt all the way down into his toes - had crushed him against his chest possessively and ravaged his mouth like he was a feast the blond needed to consume.  
  
 

 _Knowing it was Harry_.  
  
 

It seemed important to keep repeating that part to himself. Especially since Malfoy had fled right after confessing, leaving Harry beyond confused and cold and alone. Kicking the lifeless handcuff with an idle toe Harry hugged himself, rubbing his chilled arms as he tried to formulate some sort of plan.  
  
 

He needed answers, he needed to understand, he needed...  
  
 

His eyes narrowed as his thoughts clicked into place, his hand scooping up the metal cuffs and shoving one side into his trousers pocket before he was out the door and striding purposely down the hall. There was one big linking factor in the whole damn night, one person who had pushed Harry into attending, one person who had been present for nearly every stage of the night - pushing Harry further, smirking and whispering and laughing - one Gryffindor who apparently was sticking his nose in Malfoy's business.  
  
 

His fingers played with the cool chain hanging out his pocket as he paced three times in front of the empty stone wall, his thoughts concentrating on the party that had to be almost dead by now. The door drew itself into light and Harry pushed it opened and swung it shut with purposefulness - the sound vibrating like a whip cracking and drawing the attention of the only four people still inside.  
  
 

"Careful Potter." Zabini grumbled as he straightened up, his hand disappearing like a flash from where it had been pressed over Seamus's thigh.  
  
 

"Al'ight there Harry?" Seamus smiled, leaning back against the wall in a self-satisfied sort of way that made anger spark irrationally inside Harry.  
  
 

Pansy snickered, her dark gaze lingering on the handcuffs hanging from Harry's trousers, a slow smirk carving itself onto her face. "Finally broke the spell did you? I was beginning to wonder if you two were planning on spending the entire night chained together."  
  
 

 _Or maybe not irrationally_ \- he told himself as he stomped across the magical room. Harry may not have been able to piece together what exactly had transpired but those three clearly knew something he didn't. And while Seamus looked truly giddy and Zabini seemed detached with half a glint of curiosity in his hazel eyes, Pansy was watching him make his way towards them in a way that could only be described as predatory - like she had finally lured her prey into her trap and now all she had to do was spring it and feed.  
  
 

Fucking bitch really did seem a perfect description of her.  
  
 

"Where's Malfoy?" Nott looked half asleep, a nearly empty bottle of something brown cradled in his hand, his question coming out with no conviction behind it – which meant he was either more clueless than Harry about what was going on or simply didn’t give a damn.  
  
 

"Gone." Harry snapped, glaring down at Pansy as he answered the dark haired boy's question.  
  
 

"Wha you do to scare him off?" Seamus hiccupped, his head falling to land on Zabini's broad shoulder, the action pulling Harry's gaze and momentarily snatching his attention. The pair was seated with their sides nearly flush against each other, Zabini somehow looking even darker pressed up against Seamus's paler, lanky form - the Gryffindor’s shaggy hair no doubt ticking the other boy's neck. But Zabini didn't seem to notice or didn't care, his finely manicured hand resting on his knee, his fingertips extended just enough to brush against Seamus's leg. Never had Harry seen them so close, not in all the hours they had spent together, the other two boy’s always two careful steps away from each other. Harry blinked and shook it away, deciding to deal with his friend’s growingly obvious involvement with the other boy for another time.  
  
 

"What did _I_ do? You've got to be bloody kidding me." Harry hissed, his arms crossing over his naked chest as he eyed each of them in turn. "Tell me what's going on, right now."  
  
 

"I'm afraid you're going to need to elaborate." Pansy sighed, her foot tapping into Nott's knee and smirking as the drunken boy fell over sideways with eyes nearly closed in sleep. "I have a feeling there are a great many things you don't know Potter. For instance, I'm guessing by your face that you hadn't puzzled together that your dear friend has been fucking Blaise for months now."  
  
 

"Oi!" Seamus interjected as he glared daggers at the other girl, the look somewhat diminished as he grabbed Zabini's forearm and propped his chin against the boy's chocolate shoulder. "I'm right here."  
  
 

"Aren't you always? And clearly ready for a shag." She said, rolling her eyes with a pronounced sigh. "Can't you two keep it in your pants for one damn night?"  
  
 

"Nope." Zabini grinned, snagging Seamus around the waist and pulling the slighter boy onto his lap. "What do you reckon Shay? Ready to find our own party?" He nuzzled the Gryffindor's pink cheeks before pressing their lips together in a sloppy kiss that had Harry's own face tinting and his stomach twisting uncomfortably.  
  
 

Merlin how had he missed this? How had he not figured out that Seamus was up to something? His dorm mate had been disappearing for nights on end for months, coming back drunk or smothering a grin, and then there was the limp that Harry had tried not to notice but did anyway...and _Shay_? Really, they even had nicknames already? It annoyed him more than he cared to admit that he doubted Hermione would make up a _why Seamus is fucked up chart_ over it - the boy would be free of blue and yellow and purple columns and allowed to fuck whomever he pleased.  
  
 

His pulse fluttered, his skin flushing anew as his thoughts caught up with him. Did he honestly just get jealous over the thought of Seamus shagging whomever he wanted when Harry knew he would never be able to sleep with Malfoy without the wizarding world imploding? Or at least without receiving hundreds of Howlers. Though perhaps the real issue he should be concerned about was why Harry was saddened over not being able to fuck Draco Malfoy in the first place.  
  
 

"No." Harry glared, pointing at the unlikely couple that he was desperately trying to rationalize in his head. This night was just one bloody outlandish revelation after another it seemed. "No one is going anywhere until I get my answers."  
  
 

"How bout you tell us what happened yeah?" Seamus disentangled himself enough to look properly up at Harry without leaving the Slytherin's strong arms. "And then we'll get to those questions of yours."  
  
 

"Malfoy freaked." Harry grumbled, casting his gaze down to his feet as he toed the floor.  
  
 

"Why?" Seamus pressed as Pansy chuckled.  
  
 

Harry shrugged, all the confused and vulnerable feelings from before flooding him intensely once more. "I don't know. We were...and then he started ranting about you three and then he...was gone."  
  
 

"Told you this would happen." Zabini grumbled, looking pointedly at Pansy with a tired, annoyed expression that somehow seemed almost refined on his sculpted features - his upper lip pulled back just enough for a glimpse of white teeth.  
  
 

"Of course it was going to happen." Pansy huffed. "Look Potter, what do you want to hear? Do you want us to confess that Blaise and Seamus both did everything in their power to make sure you and Draco showed up tonight? You want to know the details of how _awfully_ hard it was to pick your two names out of the bowl? Or perhaps you’re more curious over how we managed to make Draco pick the eight from the deck of cards? Or is it something else entirely, mhmm? Do you need me to spell it all out for you in gigantic hot pink letters?"  
  
 

"Spell what out?" Harry croaked, he was feeling dumb and slow and hot all over again, his ears stinging and pinking as her words weaved a backdrop to everything that had taken place over the last several hours. But it didn't make sense, why would they do all that? Why in hell would the world’s oddest trio ever decide they needed to hook him and Draco up during more than one stupid party game?  
  
 

"Draco's right, you are spectacularly dense." She sighed, flipping her hair with a flick of her finger, her eyes glazing in boredom.  
  
 

"Yeah he is, you _are_ a bitchy cow." Harry snapped, taking a single step forward and glaring his hatred down at her, his gut twisting as her frown morphed into a smirk. Malfoy had been so livid for an entire hour after his encounter with her earlier on in the evening, his cool gray eyes spelling out his frustration and anger as the boy had stared down at their handcuffs for long periods of time. Harry could have sworn he had been thinking up ways to disembowel the girl or at least hex her to high heaven and all because she had chained them together and then refused to undo it without them playing the game to its finish.  
  
 

A game that Pansy and Seamus and Zabini had orchestrated, Malfoy and him just stepping where they told them too unknowingly.  
  
 

"Touché." She tipped her chin in acknowledgement before crossing her stubby arms over her ample bosom. "So here it is. You two have been driving those two -" she inclined her head in Seamus's and Zabini's direction, "as well as myself, up a wall, with your silent dancing around each other."  
  
 

"Don't forget the endless staring." Zabini added.  
  
 

"And the blatant stalking." Seamus grinned, nodding at his...boyfriend?...before turning back to look up at Harry.  
  
 

"Thank you." Pansy murmured. "So in short, we did what was necessary."  
  
 

"Which was?" Harry demanded, the uncomfortable heat inside him only intensifying as he listened to how others had perceived his and Malfoy's behavior. He didn't know how he felt about it, the very idea that they had figured out his feeling towards the blond before he had was beyond disconcerting and well...frankly embarrassing.  
  
 

Perhaps Malfoy was right yet again, maybe he was an unobservant benighted moron. Whatever that meant.  
  
 

"What was Draco's confession?" Zabini asked in way of an answer, all three of them turning expectant eyes on Harry.  
  
 

"He, um..." He cleared his throat and flushed, his gaze dropping to his toes as Malfoy's voice replayed in his head, his tone so rich and full and soft Harry could almost feel him standing behind him - whispering in his ear and melting his insides with five little words. All his famous courage failed him as he scratched the back of his head, bit his lip, and shrugged.  
  
 

"I think you already have your answer then."  
  
 

It had to have been Pansy who said it but for the life of him Harry couldn't really process who it was because his mind was spinning a mile a minute, the thing in his chest that had been roaring earlier when Daphne had put her slutty little mouth on Malfoy was back, rumbling inside him and forcefully turning him towards the only conclusion that made sense.  
  
 

And fuck if it wasn't brilliant.  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
Malfoy's small inked footprints were unnaturally still and had been for the last two hours Harry had been staring down at the map. Tucked beneath the thick blankets covering his bed, Harry's eyes watched the banner labeled Draco Malfoy as it stayed in the exact some spot in some dark, neglected corner of the never ending library that Harry actually hadn't been aware even existed. The Slytherin was all alone - except for a few smatterings of Ravenclaws clear across the room from him - because who in their right mind was up so early on a Saturday studying in the cold library anyway?  
  
 

Harry could hear his dorm mates snoring away in blissful ignorance all around him as he hitched the blanket up to his chin and sighed. He had barely managed to sleep a wink all night, his mind running a damn marathon in his head and refusing him rest. When he finally did manage to nod off he had been flooded with entirely inappropriate dreams of a certain blond boy that had left his pants wet and sticky and his cheeks pink.  
  
 

If there had been any doubt of his sexual orientation well...he was pretty sure that dreaming of lying on his back with Malfoy _moving_ between his legs pulverized any clinging denial.  
  
 

With a sigh, Harry pressed his finger over Malfoy's motionless footprints. Last night had been a whirlwind, catching him up and whipping him about, tossing him violently back to earth clutching a life changing revelation about himself and his once schoolyard rival. Because according to Pansy and Seamus and Zabini, Harry wasn't the only one walking around in obvious - that perhaps stemmed from all out panic over finding the other boy slithering into his heart - denial.  
  
 

That and apparently Malfoy had been avoiding the parties as well. Though Harry wasn't all too clear as to why on that account. The boy hadn't had any horrid, beyond embarrassing encounters with girls in a cupboard.  
  
 

No, Harry squeezed his eyes shut, he wasn't going to think about cupboards and what had taken place inside one until he had this _thing_ with Malfoy figured out. He had spent more than enough time that night while trying to drift back asleep after the dream thinking about it - about how it might have felt if Malfoy had pressed him face first into the wall, how his cold hands would have tightened on his hips, and wondering what it would have been like if the Slytherin had rubbed his hard bulge against Harry's arse.  
  
 

Merlin he was getting hard again just thinking about _thinking about_ it.  
  
 

"Fuck." He hissed, snaking a hand down his stomach and pressing his palm over his stirring erection.  
  
 

He couldn't get Malfoy's kisses and touch out of his head, in fact as time wore on it only seemed to grow and intensify and Harry could only fervently hope that the blond had had the same issue down in the dungeons. Merlin he _needed_ the other boy to be just as effected as he himself was by everything that had happened. Because Harry was pretty sure he was never going to be able to go back to the way things used to be. He would never be able to look at Malfoy or sit next to him and watch those long chilled fingers chop ingredients or watch his hair brush over his eyes as he leaned forward without his stomach knotting and his heart pounding. He knew his eyes would follow wherever the green and silver and black clad boy went, this time the emotions fueling his semi-stalking behavior clear as the damn sun.  
  
 

There would be no more denial. No more telling himself that he wasn't staring at Malfoy's arse in his form fitting trousers. No more pretending he didn't purposely crane his neck to see past Ginny and Lavender and Parvati to catch a glimpse of the Slytherin. No more pointedly ignoring what had taken place in his dreams.  
  
 

With a groan, Harry flopped onto his stomach, the map spreading out across his pillow as he propped himself up on his elbows. The problem was that Malfoy wasn't in bed, trying to will away an erection and thinking about Harry. No, he was studying, his bag probably bursting with books, the table before him covered in parchment, his full bottom lip caught between his teeth, his gray eyes narrowed in thought, the end of the feathered quill disrupting his perfectly styled hair.  
  
 

Bringing his knees up and pushing up on one hand, Harry bit his own lip and reached down between his legs - his hand shoving it's way past his boxers and to his heated flesh. He had never been one to masturbate regularly. It had always seemed shameful, his thoughts always cloudy with hazy images that he was sure weren't exactly what he was supposed to be conjuring up but were still obscured just enough for him to pretend...  
  
 

There was no pretense now.  
  
 

Harry stared at Malfoy's name and closed his hand around his hard prick. It would be easy to slip out of bed now and march down to the library. To push Malfoy's things to the floor and plant himself on the blonds lap. Maybe the other boy's eyes would darken, his chest might hitch, and his lips would glisten as he licked them seconds before pulling Harry down into a shattering kiss. He would probably be able to feel the boys chest press against his, might even be able to wiggle and get their hips aligned, and those perfect long fingered hands might even grasp his hipbones and yank Harry against him. It would be hot in the stuffy library, growing only hotter still as their hands wandered and the kiss deepened and their breathing picked up - all thoughts of studying forgotten.  
  
 

His fingers tightened as he pumped his hand up and down, his thumb smearing the beads of precum across the sensitive head. He wanted to know what Malfoy would sound like groaning his name - would it be deep and husky or soft and breathless? Would he call him Potter or Harry? Would Malfoy push him on the table and undo his fly with expert hands? Merlin to feel Malfoy's cold fingers on his cock would be overwhelming and so fucking perfect.  
  
 

Biting his tongue against a moan, Harry stared at the map and pictured Malfoy's smirk, imagined him wrapping his hand around Harry's prick, his hair mussed from Harry's fingers, and his lips red from their kisses. But god, even that wasn't enough, and Harry felt his chest tighten and his cock throb as he thought of spreading his legs - his own knees moving further apart on the bed in tandem with the image in his head. His forehead breaking out in sweat as he pictured Malfoy trailing his finger up his crack.  
  
 

He had only touched himself back there once, his finger hesitant as it had circled and pressed tentatively against his opening. He had felt so wrong doing it, his cheeks deeply red in embarrassment even as his body ached for it. In the end he had managed to wiggle a finger up to the second knuckle and had cum so hard he had nearly blacked out.  
  
 

He hadn't been able to look anyone in the eye for the entire day after.  
  
 

Yet now, picturing Malfoy shoving his knees into the air and putting his fingers down there...it wasn't embarrassment that flooded Harry. It was an aching longing, his lip quivering as he licked a finger and pressed his head down into his pillow. He held his breath as he reached back with his free hand - the first touch to his pucker sending a jolt through him. He squeezed his cock and pushed, a whimper breaking past his lips as the tip of his finger breached his tight muscles.  
  
 

But Malfoy wouldn't stop there. He would drawl his commands to Harry and send Harry's body tumbling in pleasure, he would spread him open and fill him full and Harry would sob in contentment even though logically he knew that it had to hurt. But Malfoy was methodical, logical, he did everything in measured steps, and Harry somehow knew that the boy would be gentle in his quiet way, that he would make Harry beg without even saying anything. Malfoy would pepper his face in open mouthed kisses and cover him with his panting breaths, he would ask if he was alright before losing himself in taking Harry.  
  
 

"Oh god." Harry panted, his eyes screwing shut, the map crinkling against his forehead, and his arm aching as he pressed his finger deeper and moved his hand faster - the pain only seeming to add a strange sort of edge to everything that made it all that more intense. "Fuck...Malfoy." He felt like he was falling, his body filling with electricity, his skin breaking out in a sweat, his thoughts filled with Malfoy's face twisted in pleasure, his gaze filled with that look Harry had caught a handful of times the night before.  
  
 

He replayed the boy telling him that he knew that it was Harry before it all began and he came with a muffled shout as he pressed his face into the pillow - his body convulsing and his fist filling with his sticky release. "Fuck." He repeated breathlessly just as he heard the first of his roommates stirring beyond his curtained bed.  
  
 

His heart galloped in his chest, his messy hand dropping against the bedsheets, the time for dreaming was over…it was time to face the day.  
  
  
  
****  
  
  
  
Friday came crawling into light, its morning dawn gray and speckled with rain, and Malfoy had been avoiding him for the entire week. A rather miraculous feat to accomplish indeed since Harry had been stalking him using the all-knowing map. But the boy had managed to evade him, disappearing around corners and into thick crowd’s seconds before Harry emerged into the hall. He even skipped all three meals in the Great Hall for the first few days, the plate Zabini carried out at the end of each meal telling him loud and clear that Malfoy was eating in his dormitory. When he finally did grace the school with his presence he ate in record time, his eyes glued to his place, and his friends flanking him like an impenetrable army.  
  
 

People noticed.  
  
 

Whispers had caught wind and grew like wild fire, burning peoples tongues until they could relate the tale of Harry and Draco in the cupboard to the next person along the line. They giggled at Harry louder than ever before, they blushed and pointed, and some even glared - one person even going so far as to chuck a book at him. But this time felt different and maybe it was because Harry didn't give a damn that they were pointing and laughing and staring.  
  
 

Because if the week had taught him anything it was that he liked Malfoy more than was probably healthy. He even missed the gits voice for Merlin's sake. He missed getting snarled at during Potion lessons. He missed looking up from his plate during a meal and catching those hypnotizing gray eyes from across the Hall. He missed the careful way Malfoy turned the pages of his text books, he missed the quirking smile that the boy would smother before it could bloom fully when Harry said something the other found reluctantly amusing. He even missed the insults he couldn't quite understand.  
  
 

And god did he miss his mouth and hands.  
  
 

His nights had been plagued with reenactments of the party, each time he closed his eyes taking him further and further - their time in the cupboard expanding till Harry was fairly certain they had acted out every debauched sexual act that an uneducated _just now realizing he was gay_ boy could dream up. Every morning he woke up hard or sticky, his heart beating in his chest, and a queasiness in his stomach over the fact that Malfoy was still adamantly fleeing from him.  
  
 

It was hard going about his day with such a massive revelation hanging over his head and feeling utterly alone in it each time Malfoy sidestepped him or looked away before their eyes could meet. Not to mention Ron was giving him looks again, refusing to ask outright and Harry refusing to enlighten him. Hermione wasn't much better but Harry supposed he should just be thankful that there hadn't in fact been a new column added to his _fucked up chart_.  
  
 

In fact Harry was pretty sure that if it hadn't been for Seamus he might have torn out his own hair by now. He had never felt closer to the other Gryffindor boy then he did now and perhaps it was the fact that they were both harboring secrets of similar natures but Harry found himself seeking the others company more and more. They had lain on Harry's bed early in the week after their friends had drifted to sleep, Seamus quietly telling Harry of how he and Blaise Zabini came to be - of the long months that the chocolate boy stewed in denial that bordered on psychotic. About how Seamus spent weeks wondering which Zabini he would get on their meetings and then one day it changed and it was never _Zabini_ again but always _Blaise_.  
  
 

They hid their relationship around everyone but Blaise's closest friends. They met in closets and abandoned classrooms and passed notes undetected throughout the day. Seamus said they were happy and Harry started to notice that Zabini would smile covertly at random moments when Seamus was near, that their eyes would meet and a moment would pass unnoticed between them, and then they'd move about their day as if nothing was going on.  
  
 

When Harry asked why they kept it a secret, Seamus shrugged and sighed and said something about Purebloods struggling with the reality of being gay even more than most - that the idea was repulsive in their little world and to be scorned at all costs. Their duty as heirs beat into them since birth, their mothers and fathers hounding them to make sure they followed the correctly laid out footsteps - the notion pressing against something inside Harry's chest as he stared at the ceiling and thought of Malfoy trying to fall asleep deep in the dungeons. He wondered if Malfoy was telling himself that he _couldn't_ like Harry, that he _didn't_ like Harry, that the thing in the cupboard was just that - blind, nameless groping that meant nothing.  
  
 

But that was a lie and Harry was pretty sure Malfoy knew it too.  
  
 

Yet Malfoy was refusing to acknowledge what happened and Harry feared that the boy was just stupidly stubborn enough to ignore it all his life.  
  
 

Unless he did something. Something Malfoy couldn't ignore.  
  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a transitional chapter but needed :) hope you liked it regardless!


	6. Falling In One Giant Leap

Harry let out a shaky breath and tensed his arms, the feeling of metal biting into his wrists stinging him as his back shifted against what felt like an old pipe running up a wall. Everything was black with fabric stretched across his eyes and Harry didn't know whether his heart was beating violently in fear or anticipation.  
  
 

Maybe a little of both.  
  
 

Because the last thing he could remember he had been walking down the corridor, his plan to get Malfoy alone and talking forming in his head and the handcuffs he feared he might need in order to get Malfoy to stay in his back pocket. He may have been a little distracted with the memory of Hermione's calm acceptance of what Harry wanted as she carefully jotted something down in her notebook, fixed him with a stern look, and asked him if he knew how to use lube properly, ringing in his head.   
  
 

Then there had been Ron's reaction. It had been like watching a mini volcanic eruption that only ended up leaking steam instead of deadly lava and ash everywhere. His best friend had turned bright red, his lips whitening as he pressed them together, his fingers curling so tightly around a chess piece that Harry swore he heard a faint splintering sound. Harry had been sure there was going to be yelling, with flying spit and all, but there hadn't been, nor had Ron stomped off indignantly like Harry had personally wronged him by liking Draco Malfoy.  
  
 

Instead the redhead had heaved his chest, closed his eyes tersely, and said "whatever gets your kicks," while avoiding eye contact and flushing bright.  
  
 

It was basically Ron's blessing, as much as Harry could hope for at the moment anyway, and he was extremely grateful for it.  
  
 

Except he had apparently been too distracted thinking back on his friends reactions while stalking Malfoy because the git had disappeared from the map seconds before Harry's world went black and he woke up...here...wherever that was. He wiggled his fingers, hoping that maybe he could pry his hands free, and thinking that perhaps he should be more afraid than he was.  
  
 

It was nearing the time for Voldemort to try killing him again wasn't it? Maybe this was the Dark Lord's new plan - kidnap him in the middle of the castle in the early evening, tie him up and blindfold him, and...wait. Yup, that made loads of sense. But this did seem oddly familiar, so much like in the cupboard last week, and Harry could have sworn he felt the touch of cold, sure fingers before he had apparently been knocked out...or hexed into a confused state...he really didn't know which or if it was either at all.  
  
 

"Ummm...Malfoy?" Harry cleared this throat, his voice cracking anyway when he finally managed to speak, his palms already starting to sweat.  
  
 

"You've been stalking me again." Malfoy's voice was so near Harry could nearly feel the warmth of his breath, his tone pitched low and rumbling.  
  
 

"Erm...I...yes?" Harry stuttered, wishing fervently that the Slytherin hadn't blindfolded him on top of handcuffing him to the wall. "You've been avoiding me."  
  
 

"Mhmm." The blond hummed and Harry felt a rush of air as the other moved. "Meddlesome friends don't know when to leave well enough alone. Pansy hasn't stopped harping in my ear and Finnigan is this close to meeting the point of my wand."  
  
 

Harry swallowed and waited for the other boy to continue, his feet shifting his weight as he tried to stand up straighter. Zabini had told him on more than one occasion to leave Malfoy alone, that he had responsibilities to think of and that Harry shouldn't mess with it. But Seamus had always elbowed his boyfriend in the side and hissed at him to shut it as Harry gnawed on his lip. He personally was insanely grateful for their intervening friends - if it hadn't been for them Harry would still most likely be walking around in complete oblivion, staring at Malfoy's arse and telling himself that he was simply annoyed at the blatant display of overspending in the clothing department.  
  
 

Because Malfoy could clearly walk around in his underwear for a week and in return feed the nations hungry on the amount of money saved from being spent on designer clothing...and wouldn't that be wonderfully humiliating? Malfoy's lanky pale form on display for all...  
  
 

Really, Harry should have figured out he was head over heels for the boy a long time ago.  
  
 

"You were right, they planned the whole thing." Harry said when the silence stretched on for too long for him to find bearable, his face starting to itch under the blindfold that felt remarkably like silk. "Said they were ti-"  
  
 

"Yes, I've _heard_ the speech." Malfoy grumbled in irritation. "Apparently lying to me and shoving me in that cupboard was for my own good, or so says the bitch."  
  
 

"Which one's _the bitch_?"  
  
 

Malfoy snorted and Harry felt a smile tug at his lips in response to the sound. "Good point. Know what the worst part of it all is?" Cool fingers connected with the skin just above the handcuffs on Harry's wrist and he sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, his stomach plummeting as another set of cold fingers lightly touched his jawline.  
  
 

"What?" Harry gasped, his body tingling all the way down to his toes as he all but sunk into the touch holding him oh so lightly.  
  
 

"I don't do confessions Potter." He said it so lowly, so deeply, that it made him gravel like sandpaper on stone, the sound rippling through Harry in a stomach flipping shiver. "Those thoughts weren't meant for you to hear."  
  
 

"Why?" Harry was breathless, wishing - wishing so much it hurt - that he could see Malfoy's eyes and the darkness that would no doubt be clouding them. He loved seeing anger spark in those gray irises. Loved how they seemed to clap in thunder, a perfect punctuation to his rough sounding voice that had overtaken his patent drawl. "I told you mine...and I...I liked hearing it."  
  
 

"I'm not looking to be anyone's bloody experiment."  
  
 

Harry shook his head as much as he could in the steadily increasing grip Malfoy held him in. "I don't want to either. We could..."  
  
 

"No." Malfoy growled, his fingers tightening in a move that seemed counterproductive to his denial.  
  
 

"But-"  
  
 

"It's all easy for you isn't it, getting what you want? Goddamn Chosen One." His breath tickled Harry's face, his fingers twisting the skin near the handcuffs in a way that shouldn't have felt as good as it did. "You won't be lynched for this if it comes to light."  
  
 

"Lynched?" Harry frowned, his breath quickening.  
  
 

"Buy a dictionary Potter." Malfoy grumbled.  
  
 

"Or I could just keep you." He smiled, biting his lip and hoping the other boy could see the want in his partially obstructed face. "You can do whatever you want to me in the dark and snarl definitions at me when people are looking."  
  
 

"Keeping to dark spaces?" Malfoy moved closer, the brush of his body against Harry's sending the darker boy's pulse racing. "A dirty secret?"  
  
 

"If you want." His mouth had gone horribly dry, the urge to lick his lips overwhelming.  
  
 

Malfoy snarled in his ear, his cheek brushing Harry's and lips lingering on the outer shell of his ear. "Like fuck that's what I want."  
  
 

"Then what...?" Harry tried to press forward, his head turning just a fraction, his nostrils filling with the fruity scent of Malfoy's shampoo. "God Malfoy just tell me what you want."  
  
 

He laughed softly, the sound unhinged, like something had uncorked deep inside the Slytherin and he couldn't keep it from bubbling up any longer. "You are a menace." He murmured, threading his fingers through Harry's hair and tugging sharply until Harry's mouth fell open in a gasp. "A goddamned nuisance. You will surely be my ruin." He nipped Harry's earlobe, his thumb brushing over the darker boy's bottom lip and tugging down just enough to get the taste of his skin on Harry's tongue.  
  
 

"Yeah well, you're a confusing conundrum." Harry tried to suppress his whimper but heat was pooling in the pit of his stomach, his body aching for contact - for anything, for everything. "You ignore me all bloody week and now you've kidnapped me and chained me to a pipe."  
  
 

"Confusing conundrum? Redundant description don't you think?"  
  
 

"I...who cares? Is that really the part that you're going to focus on, my grammar? How about you tell me why I'm blindfolded and handcuffed?"  
  
 

"The blindfolds mine, true, but the handcuffs I found in your pocket." Malfoy rumbled, his fingers moving to caress the warm metal. "Care to share why you were stalking me with them? Opprobrious intent perchance?"  
  
 

"No." Harry just barely kept from asking what the hell that meant and bit back a moan as Malfoy tugged at the collar of his shirt - a nice black button down he had borrowed from Dean, the jeans on his hips a crisp gray and cuffed at the ankle and belonging to Seamus. In fact the only things that belonged to him were his underwear and shoes. But he had planned to confront the other boy and wanted to look good and his wardrobe had seemed horribly lacking when he had stared into it earlier. He knew Malfoy would look impeccable as he always did and Harry...well if he was going to try and get Malfoy's attention he wanted to look as good as he possibly could.  
  
 

Of course he hadn't foreseen this exact turn of events happening.  
  
 

"No? What then?" Malfoy plucked a button free and slipped his cool fingers over Harry's collar bone, feather light and oh so amazing. "What was your plan when you managed to get me alone exactly?"  
  
 

"Ummm." Harry shuddered out a breath and pressed forward on his toes, his shoes squeaking on the stone.  
  
 

"Finnigan seems to be under the impression that you..." He trailed off, warm lips pressing to the skin just under Harry's ear. "Were you going to tie me up? Make me confess all over again? Hex me for taking advantage of you?"  
  
 

"No, I wanted to talk." Harry knew it would be no small miracle if Malfoy couldn't feel his heart beating as another button was undone, long fingers trailing down over each inch of skin revealed.  
  
 

"Talk?"  
  
 

Harry nodded, biting his lip as Malfoy's mouth latched onto his throat in a blazing hot kiss that made his thoughts blur uncontrollably. "About...about what happened... _fuck Malfoy_."  
  
 

"Go on then. Talk" Malfoy murmured, his mouth descending over the curve of Harry's neck and along his collar - scraping teeth and wet.  
  
 

"I just, I um...." He shuddered and cursed, slim hands dropping to grasp his hips and drag him forward until his imprisoned hands kept him from moving any further, the blonds long frame pressing up against his roughly like he could read Harry's thoughts. "Seamus, you know he's...well the t-thing is, I _wanted_ it to be you...in the cupboard...god did I want it to be you." It was a shocking revelation that he had come to earlier that week, the knowledge that a part of him had desperately wanted to pretend that it was Malfoy in the cupboard with him and he had a feeling that was part of the reason he had reacted so strongly - because he _could_ pretend. It wasn't a stretch for his subconscious brain to make the hard angled boy pinning him to the wall into Draco Malfoy, in fact it had been so easy and seamless that he hadn't even noticed until it was all over and done with. "I wanted you, I want you. God Malfoy I can't get you out of my head and I just... _want you_."  
  
 

Malfoy was quiet for a long moment, his heavy breath puffing over Harry's face as the blond held his hips and stared down at him - the locked gaze a heavy thing that Harry could feel even through his blindfold. It made every single nerve in his body sing, made his lips tingle, and cheeks redden. The boy set him on edge, pushing him to new heights each time they found themselves close and held him dangling by the tips of his fingers over the abyss – and Harry knew deep down that he was seconds away from falling into such depths that he would never recover from. Or perhaps he had already fallen and was just waiting for Malfoy to take the leap to join him.  
  
 

"Malfoy?" Harry breathed out tentatively, the handcuffs clanking against the pipe as he shifted. Harry had no clue if it was dark or light in the cupboard, didn’t know if Malfoy could even see him properly, but he felt completely on display and even though he felt beyond nervous and anxious he could also feel his stomach twist and his pants tighten.  
  
 

"Fucking doomed." Malfoy hissed and as Harry's brow furrowed in confusion his lips were taken up in a heady kiss as he was crushed into the other boy's chest, his shoulders aching as he leaned forward as much as he possibly could - embarrassing sounds of need breaking the silence.  
  
 

But Harry didn't care that he sounded like a slut, or worse a clingy girl, because Malfoy was finally kissing him again and that was all that mattered. It was just as good as he remembered it being - just the right amount of tongue, heat that kept exploding through him, and a dizziness in his head that cancelled everything else around him out. Malfoy's body was hard and angled and as he canted his hips forward he felt the delicious press of the boy's hardness against his own. He growled low in his throat as a hand tangled in his hair, tipping his head as Malfoy deepened the kiss, his own fingers itching to touch but kept useless behind his back.  
  
 

A hand traced down his chest, pushing up the material and splaying on his heated stomach. "These aren't your fucking clothes." Malfoy panted, breaking the kiss with a nip to his bottom lip that boarded on painful. But before Harry could even begin to formulate an answer his world was spinning in black, metal clanking against stone, everything tipping with cold fingers grasping his wrist - yanking him forward and into a firm chest and delirious kiss once more.  
  
 

He grasped at Malfoy's back, molding himself against the other boy from toe to toe, thigh to thigh, groin to groin, chest to chest. He stuck himself there and held on tight, a part of him fearful that the blond would flee again in the next second. But Malfoy wasn't stopping, he was devouring him, turning him inside out with his kisses, his feet moving backwards as the other boy led them who knew where. There was a rush of air, a splash of dry heat that smelled of flame, and he was falling - the back of his knees hitting supple leather, worn so thin it felt like its own naked caress. He landed against what felt like an old couch, his shoulders half propped against the backing, his body caught in an awkward angle of half laying, half sitting for all but a second before he was being twisted flat on his back.  
  
 

He groaned as Malfoy pressed himself over Harry, his hands winding into silky soft hair as they gasped for air and set to kissing once more - the press of knees on either side of Harry's body indenting and dipping the couch. He lifted his hips, felt himself fall apart a little bit more when Malfoy ground back down into him, his body roaring in heat and want.  
  
 

"Malfoy. _Draco_." He moaned, his hands pinned to the leather seconds after trying to pry his blindfold free. "Let me see you." He begged, craning his neck and placing sloppy kisses wherever they landed - against the boy's mouth, his cheek, his sharply lined chin, and hallowed throat. "Please."  
  
 

"If you had known would it have been different?" Malfoy balanced himself on his knees, rising up just enough to take his weight from Harry, his nose bumping Harry's until he managed to correct the Gryffindor's position enough to kiss him again - short and wickedly heated.  
  
 

"No." Harry pressed his hands into the couch and pushed himself up at the same time, knocking into the boy atop him and biting at his retreating lips. "Yes. I wouldn't have wasted so much time. I can't stop dreaming about it, about all that we could have done."  
  
 

"You're ruining everything you know." Malfoy whispered, letting go of one of his wrists and shoving his hand up Harry's shirt again. "You were just supposed to be an unattainable want."  
  
 

"You can have me." Harry assured him, knowing he was missing Malfoy's point but unable to care in the moment, a voice that sounded very much like Zabini chastising him for it.  
  
 

"For how long?"  
  
 

Harry's breath caught as Malfoy's fingers drifted to the button on his jeans. He arched his back, his body pumping hot like he could already feel the touch on his hard prick. "I'm shit at divinations." He muttered, wondering vaguely why his heart was clenching at Malfoy's tone of voice. He sounded almost...afraid. But of what? Of Harry using him once and leaving? Of Harry starting something up with him and then getting bored? Of people finding out? Or was it something deeper, something worse? Was he afraid of the war, of the possibility of Harry winding up dead, of him falling before his father's Master?  
  
 

"Guess then."  
  
 

The hand holding his wrist down tightened and Harry reached up and yanked the blindfold off before Malfoy could stop him. He blinked in the sudden light and found the world slow to a crawl for the span of a single moment as he took in the sight of the boy above him. Malfoy looked a right mess - hair loose and everywhere, lips wet and swollen, cheeks pink, and shirt rumpled into oblivion. But it was the look in his eye that stopped Harry, that caught any words he may have spoken in his chest. Draco Malfoy's face was free of any snarl or sarcastic demeanor. He was...open and the intensity of it threatened Harry's sanity. He knew then that Malfoy could have him for as long as he damn well wanted and probably even for quite some time after if the boy ever walked away from him.  
  
 

"Malfoy, I..." He whispered and Malfoy's lips twitched downward, Harry catching them in a kiss before it could become a full blown frown. Malfoy's mouth was stiff for a moment before he melted down into Harry, his fingers working the buttons on the darker boy's fly open with expertise. Cold fingers snaked into his boxers, wrapping around his heated flesh, and Harry couldn't stop the shout from leaving his lips. "Bloody fuck!" He groaned and bucked and squeezed the hand holding his, his cock throbbing in Malfoy's palm, the pleasure of the simple touch almost too much for him in that moment.  
  
 

Merlin if this was how it was going to start then he was doomed to not last long at all.  
  
 

The fear vanished from his gray eyes as Malfoy smirked and Harry didn't know if the other boy had somehow read his thoughts again and knew all that he wanted or if the blond was merely pushing it down - tucking it away and telling himself that it didn't matter. He wanted to ask, to make sure that the Slytherin knew what was in his head but then the hand on his cock twitched up and down, stormy eyes watching avidly as Harry bit his lip harshly and his words became unintelligible gibberish on his tongue.  
  
 

"You’re going to be mine Potter and it’s all your bloody fault." He ducked his head and ran his tongue over the curve of Harry's neck, sinking his teeth lightly into the tingling flesh as he pumped with his hand and pressed his thumb along the leaking slit. "Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus." He whispered huskily into the Gryffindor's pink ear.  
  
 

"Yes." Harry hissed, wondering vaguely what tickling sleeping dragons had to do with anything before Malfoy was kissing him again - green eyes squeezing shut as his back arched up off the couch without his consent. The same sort of desperation that had overtaken him in the cupboard surged up inside him, his fingers wiggling free from Malfoy's hold, his hands grasping the blond’s shirt. He yanked and pulled until he managed to get the material bunched up under his armpits, his fingers tracing down over Malfoy's porcelain back and around his tapered, lean waist. He moaned into the kiss, saliva wetting his chin as his constant wiggling kept making their lips slide sloppily, his nails scratching down pale flesh and curling around the waistband of Malfoy's trousers.  
  
 

Harry's fingers moved in a blur, Malfoy's hand grasping violently into the back of the couch, his mouth dropping open against Harry's in a gasp. "Merlin Potter." He panted, Harry's hand having found its way inside Malfoy's pants without him even really knowing how he managed it while squished into the leather and his mind turned to complete mush.  
  
 

But he was holding Malfoy in his hand - long, thick, and hot - and he could feel his own orgasm stir low in his belly at the feel of it. The blond's cock was heavy and as Harry squeezed his fingers it throbbed in his palm, Malfoy's breathe hissing out over Harry's swollen lips. He felt momentarily stupid, frozen in place, his mind skipping forward and stopping and all he could think was that he needed to feel it inside him. It should have scared him, the desire so strong it was making his heart pound painfully, because he was a damn virgin for Merlin's sake. He should want to take it slow, he should be satisfied with just moving his wrist and bringing the boy to completion between his fingers.  
  
 

But he didn't and he wasn't.  
  
 

Except he didn't know how to say it, didn't know how to ask for what he wanted, something that sounded like the Dursley's muttering that it was a shameful want in the back of his head.  
  
 

"Stop." He gasped, realizing suddenly that Malfoy was seconds away from finishing him off, his free hand grasping at Malfoy's back desperately as he tried to keep himself from tipping over.  
  
 

"Changed your mind already?" Malfoy was out of breath, his face pink, his hand disappearing from Harry's pants to press flat against the couch.  
  
 

He looked like he was going to say more with his face going smooth and slack but Harry didn't give him the time to, didn't give a chance to regret what they were starting. He sat up quickly, forcing Malfoy back on his knees, and yanked the shirt off over the blonds head before tugging his own off and throwing them both somewhere behind the couch. His hands grasped the slender naked shoulders, his mouth tipping up until he was pressing his lips against the others roughly, and with a quick twist he was dragging them back down to land on their sides with arms and legs tangled in a glorious knot.  
  
 

"Hell no." He breathed, his answer belated and Malfoy's eyes were hazy as they blinked open. But he seemed to catch on quickly because when Harry pushed at the band of his trousers the blond hurried to help him along - wiggling until the material bunched down around his knees as he simultaneously worked to rid Harry of his own jeans.  
  
 

They kicked off their pants, Malfoy's arms wrapping around Harry's body and pressing his hips forward, a soft cry leaving both their lips as skin touched skin - fully and intimately. It was more than Harry thought he could feel, pleasure exploding over his flesh, his fingers reaching down to grasp Malfoy's firm buttocks and pressing to hold him there - his leg lifting to wrap around Malfoy's and opening himself up even more to the other boy.  
  
 

"Draco." He groaned, the boy's given name sinfully sweet falling from his lips, the sound of it somehow making everything that much more real and intense. "Draco, fuck you feel amazing."  
  
 

"Have you done this before?" Malfoy asked, his lips pressing to Harry's neck as his hips rocked forward, their cocks sliding together and making Harry quack from the inside out.  
  
 

"No." Harry shuddered, his skin prickling as Malfoy ran the tips of his fingers down his spine, his mouth opening against his throat. "But I want this. I want you."  
  
 

"How?"  
  
 

Harry closed his eyes and summoned his courage, the thing in his chest roaring for him to just open his mouth and say it, to stake his claim fully. But the words burned his lungs, they were too heavy on his tongue, and with what felt like anxious tears pricking behind his eyelids he reached behind himself and grabbed Malfoy's hand that was lingering on the small of his back. He dragged down the other boy's hand, his knee bending and sliding further up Malfoy's leg as he guided the cool fingers until they pressed along his arse crack. "Here...want you here." He whispered, a whimper bubbling up his throat as Malfoy pressed a finger down and touched him lightly against his pucker. "Yes, god Draco."  
  
 

"Merlin." He muttered, his touch circling the Gryffindor’s furrowed flesh as he kept up a steady rhythm with his hips, Harry’s body heating to a point that he was sure he was about to combust. "Are you sure?"  
  
 

Harry nodded, his breath hitching in his chest as Malfoy rolled suddenly, one last kiss taking up his lips before the other boy was off the couch, his hands grasping Harry's hips and yanking his legs off the leather and onto the floor. Harry puffed out hot air into the cushion, his hands scrambling for purchase and grasping onto the backrest with his knees on the floor, his cock trapped against the soft furniture, and his arse on display. His cheeks burned red and unrestrained desire seized him as he dug in his fingernails and waited, his prick throbbing as Malfoy grabbed his thighs and pushed his legs further apart.  
  
 

"You are rare indeed." Malfoy muttered, his hands running up Harry's sweaty flesh until they splayed open on his arse cheeks. "So damn beautiful and yet even with all those admirers fawning after you...you never notice do you?"  
  
 

Harry's cheek was starting to stick to the leather as his forehead began to perspire, his thighs trembling as Malfoy spread his hands apart and opened him up to his gray gaze. "I don't want to be fawned over." He bit his lip and shut his eyes, reminding himself to stay still, to not push back and beg Malfoy to touch him, to take him, to stop being so damn slow.  
  
 

Slow was good. Slow meant it would last longer. Slow meant that Malfoy's hands and body would be on his for the foreseeable future.  
  
 

"No?" Malfoy leaned down and Harry cried out loudly as lips touched his buttocks, a finger moving swift and pressing stiff against him. "Would you rather stay like this? Waiting for me to fuck you?"  
  
 

"Yes." Harry moaned, the small of his back curving in as he unconsciously pressed his hips back. "Please."  
  
 

"Keep your hands where they are." Malfoy ordered and Harry tightened his grip on the back of the couch, his arms aching wonderfully in the awkward stretch that forced them above his head.  
  
 

Harry nodded and struggled to breathe properly as he heard a muttered spell and felt slick fingers pressing against his opening - one rubbing, the other pushing, pushing, pushing until Harry couldn't keep from groaning loud and long, the single digit wiggling its way deep inside him, burning and stinging and stretching as it went. His eyes rounded as he felt Malfoy stop, the intrusion inside him as deep as it could go, and merlin if it didn't feel even more amazing then when he had done it to himself.  
  
 

"Alright?" Malfoy whispered.  
  
 

"More." Harry moaned, his body strung tight and his muscles trembling throughout his entire being. His mouth dropped open and the room zoomed out of focus, the press of his askew glasses no longer biting into the side of his face. Or maybe he just didn't notice it any longer because all he could feel was Malfoy pumping his hand, curling his finger...his _fingers_...one, then two, then three...his body opening up more and more, pain spiking and receding, need curling hot and ready through his groin, and an endless stream of noise falling from his lips. The struggle to breathe increased, his body glistening in the softly lit room, his arms shaking and cock aching, saliva sticking his open mouth to the couch cushion, and behind him Malfoy kept up his careful motions - his touch working him loose and open and ready and Harry couldn't stop thinking about the need he felt deep inside to feel something thicker than the boy's glorious fingers piercing him.  
  
 

Then Malfoy withdrew and Harry moaned brokenly and his world promptly shattered as wet lips closed around his hole - a gentle kiss that made him want to keep rubbing his hips against the couch and press back into the warm contact at the same time. "F-fuck Draco...oh fuck please." He stuttered, the muscles in his back contracting as he struggled to keep himself from letting go of the couch.  
  
 

"So tight." Malfoy muttered, sounding like he was talking more to himself than Harry before he was kissing the slick pucker again, his tongue peeking out and licking at the fluttering muscle. "Merlin I can't wait to fuck you."  
  
 

"Yes." Harry agreed and then promptly sobbed, the carpet stinging his knees as Malfoy started stabbing his tongue in and out of him, his lips sealing and sucking, the most inappropriate sounds filling the air along with Harry's cries and before he knew what he was doing he was begging the other to stop - his words broken and hoarse, his body rocking rhythmically as he felt his orgasm approach dangerously. "Draco...oh god I'm going to cum...stop...please...oh fuck, fuck...fuck!" His vision blackened, little dots of light pricking at the edges as his nails ripped into the old leather, the idea that he was about to explode just from having his hole tongue fucked and leather caressing his cock an idea he couldn't seem to catch onto. But then Malfoy's tongue stuck forward once more and Harry felt his body shake violently as he came with a shout - coating the couch and his own groin with his cum.  
  
 

He felt limp and shaky and like the world had tipped upside down with tears in his eyes as he felt Malfoy lick him - probing inside him and then down his crack and over his balls before he was suddenly on his back, his head angled painfully against the backing with his arse off the couch and his legs pushed up into the air.  
  
 

"Fuck Potter, you look damn perfect." Malfoy sounded hoarse, his throat scratchy, his chin bright red, and lips obscenely puffy. "I could fuck you for hours."  
  
 

Harry smiled, his curls soppy in his eyes and lines from the cushions crossing his face, his legs that felt as strong as jelly moving to wrap around Malfoy's waist despite his muscles protest to do absolutely no work. "Okay." He croaked and didn't protest when Malfoy bent him awkwardly and sealed their lips together - his dirty tongue playing against his in a deliciously naughty kiss that made the butterflies attacking Harry's stomach swarm intensely. Harry's hand clenched in his perfect hair and a moan got muffled in the other boy's mouth as he angled his hips up and felt Malfoy's cock slide against his.  
  
 

He could feel the strain in Malfoy's body and felt the groan the blond let out as the other boy shifted, grabbed his arse with his wet hand, and pressed forward. Harry's head curved sharply back into the cushion as the blunt head forced its way past his muscles, a chant or prayer or plea or perhaps just complete gibberish falling from his lips as he was slowly, agonizingly filled. But Malfoy's voice was low and rumbling and soothing, his words following right along with the darker boys as Harry grabbed at Malfoy's back with one hand and the couch with the other. It was intense, more than he could have ever imagined it being, his body feeling like it was going to split and yet every ounce of him welcoming every inch that slid in with greed even as panic twisted inside him.  
  
 

He let out a broken cry, a tear leaking from the corner of his eye, his legs tightening around Malfoy's hips.  
  
 

"Harry." Malfoy groaned, his fingers playing against Harry's throat and his lips brushing his as he came to rest fully inside him. "Are you alright? Fuck, say you're alright." There were beads of sweat on his forehead, his voice as strained as his muscles, his gray eyes blinking open with lust and want and worry swirling beneath the storm.  
  
 

"I'm alright...I'm...it's..."He didn't know how to vocalize it. It was fire and burning and perfect and pure and aching in his head and body and heart all at once. It was like having Malfoy merge his soul with his and it was...he never wanted it to end. He didn't know if it was normal, didn't know if this was how everyone felt their first time but to Harry it was priceless and obscure and just theirs. He wrapped both his arms around the Slytherin's neck and pressed their lips together, kissing him slowly and deeply as his body squeezed around the thick intrusion inside him. "Draco..."  
  
 

Malfoy nodded, their noses bumping as he wrapped him in his arms and pulled him up from the sticky leather. His own weight sunk Harry further down on Malfoy's cock as he came to rest on the other boy’s thighs. Their hips moved, Harry gasping, Malfoy making small noises in the back of his throat as their rhythm grew in tandem. He was dizzy, holding on for dear life, every brush of the cock inside him making pleasure and pain explode through him, his feet pressing into the carpet as he vied for leverage - desperately trying to get more to make the jolt spark harder, to make Malfoy's lips drop open in that perfect pant.  
  
 

"Ah harder...harder." He moaned, his cock swelling steadily as his body adjusted, his hips grinding down as much as he possibly could on every downward thrust.  
  
 

"Damn Harry...don't want to hurt you."  
  
 

"Won't...I just...I need more..."  
  
 

Malfoy made a growling noise that rumbled through his chest and the next thing Harry knew he was back on his back, the floor hard and cold against his naked skin. Malfoy planted his knees, Harry's legs draped wide, and a moment later he was startling himself with a scream. It tore through him, something igniting inside him, the new angle making everything swim and burst in white light. Malfoy dug his fingers into his hips, yanked him back into each thrust, and Harry fell apart. He had heard sex and orgasms referred to as the little death before and later Harry would wonder if this was why. He was boneless and taut, he begged for it stop in the same breath that he demanded more - though if Malfoy understood any of it Harry couldn't be sure. He felt like he was going to break, the ramming inside him feeling huge and all encompassing, and throughout it all he couldn't stop staring at Malfoy's face.  
  
 

He was beautiful and Harry was determined to commit every line to memory.  
  
 

But then Malfoy's hand touched him and his back arched drastically off the ground, his mouth dropped and he came without warning. He floated above himself, his head heavy and thick, and a giddy smile turning up his lips as he took the pounding that hadn't slowed in the slightest. It went on and on and Harry didn't know if he should have found it so amazing being used like that, didn't know if he should have started to crave the way his limp body moved with each thrust or if he should love the fact that he was oversensitive and each second was like falling from a great height. But he did and when Malfoy finally came, Harry couldn't stop his own whimper as his hot seed filled him, couldn't stop himself from pulling Malfoy down atop him and into an imploring kiss.

 

Harry clung to him and kissed him for all he was worth, pouring himself out in the embrace and hoping that Malfoy could feel all that he was feeling. It lasted for longer than Harry had breath for and when it finally winded down, Malfoy shifted off him with one last lingering kiss and a soft hand running the length of his side almost wistfully.

 

It felt like a parting. Like goodbye.

 

  
  
"We're definitely doing that again." Harry breathed as Malfoy settled on his side next to him as he touched the blonds pink face.  
  
 

Malfoy let out a shallow laugh, his fingers combing through Harry's disastrous locks. "Alright." He whispered, his eyes traveling Harry's visage in a way that only Malfoy ever did. It was a very particular look, one that used to make him nervous, that made him feel like he was hopelessly exposed when he couldn't for the life of him figure the Slytherin out. It used to make him feel small and stupid and hot and angry, the look in his gray eyes haunting Harry for the entire day and far into the night - bothering him until he complained to Ron, until the redhead rolled his eyes and told Harry to drop it.  
  
 

But now they were a heaving sweaty mess and Harry couldn't think of anything more perfect to grace the blonds face as his hand traced down Harry's sweaty spine. Because Harry understood it now. It wasn't a look of belittlement or superiority. It wasn't Malfoy tipping his hand quietly and silently proclaiming that he was better than Harry. It was obscured desire. It was Draco Malfoy, wishing, wanting. It was the Slytherin looking upon something he wanted but forced into silence.  
  
 

It was Draco looking at Harry like maybe they could be more.  
  
 

It was a silent promise, just like the boy's confession had been layered deeper than Harry had originally thought. He smiled and pressed his lips to Malfoy's, his hand curling through the boy's fingers between them. He knew what he had to do now and it was simple.  
  
 

He just had to show Malfoy that _more_ was definitely attainable.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read/gave kudos and comments! I'm always a little sad to see the end of a story, especially one that was just so freakin fun to write and I hope you all enjoyed this :)


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